


Blaming Frank

by dapatty, s0ckpupp3t



Series: Oversexed!AU [1]
Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: BDSM, Barebacking, Breathplay, Dirty Talk, Exhibitionism, Facials, Group Sex, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Rimming, Sibling Incest, Threesome, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-15
Updated: 2011-06-15
Packaged: 2017-10-20 11:02:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/212082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dapatty/pseuds/dapatty, https://archiveofourown.org/users/s0ckpupp3t/pseuds/s0ckpupp3t
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes something messy, but really great, can start with a shower.  Maybe they all deserved something a little messy after the year they'd had.  Scrapping an album, losing a drummer, embracing art as the weapon, and all of them going back on tour and loving it again probably didn't hurt either-starting back on the world tour in Japan and the excitement of it could also be to blame.  But really, it was all Frank's fault.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blaming Frank

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by [shadowrider](shaowrider.livejournal.com). It’s cracky, fluffy, kinky PORN. So. Much. Porn. We didn't know we could _write_ this much porn, we're just saying. This is current tour fic, set during February 2011, with a lot of poetic (pornetic?) license taken. Additional warnings include underage kissing in a flashback, lots of cursing, trash-talking, blatant switches in POV, shameless geekery, showers, and soap.

Sometimes something messy, but really great, can start with a shower. Maybe they all deserved something a little messy after the year they'd had. Scrapping an album, losing a drummer, embracing art as the weapon, and all of them going back on tour and loving it again probably didn't hurt either-starting back on the world tour in Japan and the excitement of it could also be to blame. But really, it was all Frank's fault.

*********  


  


[1: The Shower That Started It - Gerard]

"Gee, seriously! You _have_ to try this shit!" Frank insisted, trying his best to drag Gerard toward the bathroom.

"’Have.’ You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means." Gerard's denial was firm as he planted himself against the bathroom doorframe to counter Frank's tugging, his fingers clinging to the molding. "Look, my hair is clean. Clean! And I'll just end up smelling like girly flowers like last time. I don't want to smell like flowers, you-- ow! Hydrophilic freak."

"Hey, where did your feminism go? And stop hating on Flying Fox! Jasmine is awesome!" Frank argued, switching to pulling at Gerard's belt buckle instead. "And I'm telling you, this shit is like a hundred times more awesome."

"How is it more awesome?" Gerard asked cautiously, humoring Frank in an attempt to distract him long enough to escape the hotel room. He could hide in Mikey and Ray's room. It would be safe and vegetarian-friendly body wash(tm)-free in their room. They wouldn't have even unwrapped the little soaps. Because they were civilized, and would be playing video games and eating room service. They would let him do that with them. On the other hand, Frank _was_ taking off his clothes, which could be a win. If Gerard could only get him distracted away from this whole shower thing.

"It smells like bees are having sex on you, but they're so busy having sex, they can't be bothered to sting you," Frank explained, tossing Gerard's belt back toward one of the beds. He started trying to get Gerard out of his tight black pants. At this rate, Gerard would have to let one of his hands go unless he wanted to end up in Mikey's room trouser-free--not that it hadn't happened before, but there was a sense of dignity to be considered. Not like Iero. Frankie would walk around naked if a shower was involved. Shameless fucker, wanting to be clean and shit even if that meant wandering around stark naked backstage at Warped. Come to think, Warped would probably have been a lot more fun if they'd just kept hoses closer to the stage.

"Wait, what? How does that even work?" Gerard asked, making a grab at his pants. Frank seized the chance to haul Gerard bodily into the bathroom, in some stupid spider-monkey display of surprise strength or something. Frank was serious about showers, though. Serious enough to probably leave bruises from the doorframe.

"You have to try it," Frank said. "Then you'll see." Frank made quick work of stripping Gerard, even with Gerard half-heartedly batting at his hands. Gerard knew it was a lost cause. He could let Frank have his way now, and somehow get the little fucker back later. It would probably involve coffee procurement. That'd be useful. There were other upsides. Frankie was getting naked now too, as he reached to turn the water on and set the temperature. Naked Frank was always a nice sight to see. Maybe Gerard could taste some of his favorite tattoos.

Gerard resigned himself, letting Frank drag him into the tub and under the warm spray. Gerard pouted as the water drenched his red hair and covered him in general unpleasant wetness. Water was going to get in his ears. His color was going to fade too quickly. Frank was going to be a smug little shit. Okay, that last part was usually unavoidable. And adorable. But the other stuff was so not on.

Frank giggled at him like an asshole, and said, "Oh, don't look so sad. Bees having sex!" Frank grinned, reaching for a bottle that honestly had the words 'It's Raining Men' on it. Gerard was not at all reassured as Frank snapped open the top and squirted a glob of the offensive yellowish gel into his palm and reached up and began washing Gerard's hair.

"Seriously, I can't be trusted to do this myself-Hey!" Gerard's protest was cut short, because it really did smell like bees having sex. Well, okay, an overwhelming honey sweetness, anyway, and was that toffee? He sniffed again. Notes of lemon. Well, shit.

"I know! Right?!" Frank looked far too pleased with himself as he tilted Gerard's head back under the spray to encourage him to rinse. He was gentle, though, guiding the water away from Gerard's eyes and ears. Frank reached for a washcloth and lathered that up as well, starting to scrub Gerard’s neck clean of paint. He worked his way down until he was kneeling in the tub, rubbing honeyed soap and cloth over Gerard's thighs and grinning impishly. Gee looked down and smiled back. It was _really_ hard to be angry with Frank’s mouth two inches away from Gerard’s cock. And if only he would keep his mouth there, or preferably a little closer, and stop with the soap thing, but no. The little fucker was all soap and teasing licks, sliding hands and slippery limbs and never quite enough.

“Frankie,” Gerard whined, which only caused Frank to smirk wider. The fucker.

“What?” Frank asked, none-too-innocent, his mouth so close to where Gerard wanted it to be. If he’d just lick him at least. Something. Or get them both out of the shower so they could do some proper fucking.

“ _Frankie_ ,” Gerard whined again, hips moving on their own. He was moments away from trying to rub one off on Frank’s face out of spite when Frank actually started paying attention.

“Oh,” Frank smirked, fingertips walking over, reaching down to cup Gerard’s balls, thumb brushing over the base of his shaft. “Your whining wouldn’t have something to do with this, would it?”

“Yes,” Gerard grumbled, trying to cling to the rail in the shower, leaning into Frank’s touch, trying to encourage him to start with more friction, more anything. Frank pulled away, biting his lip promisingly, and reached to turn off the water.

It took a while, but they made it out of the tub and as far as the bathroom sink, where Frankie made drying off an act of teasing, cotton ghosting across skin. Finally Gerard took matters into his own hands and pulled Frank into a kiss, slipping his tongue inside that smirking mouth, tasting the smile.

Frank’s hand found its way to Gerard’s cock again and began to stroke, lazy, light, and slow, and Gerard moaned into his kiss. Frankie ran his calloused fingertips over the tip, reaching his hand back again to lick off the precome, touching him again with spit-slick fingers.

Grinding into Frankie’s palm, Gerard cupped one of his hands on Frank’s jaw and tilted Frank’s face to the side. He smelled good. He looked even better, newly-short hair dripping onto his shoulders, dark eyes, soft lips. It made Gerard’s fingers ache for a pencil. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d drawn Frank wet, but he wanted to try again. Gerard kissed a trail from the corner of Frank’s mouth along the line of his jaw and down his neck, and licked a long swipe along the scorpion, listening to Frank’s groan.

Allowing himself a small smile, he started tasting the ink down Frankie’s chest, tracing the webbing with the tip of his tongue. Frank squirmed and his hand stopped moving. Gerard jerked back up.

“Hey! Hands. With the stopping.” Gerard said eloquently.

“I didn’t really want to use my hands,” Frank said, grinning fiendishly, and eased down onto his knees.

Gerard made a sound not unlike a whimper as Frank licked down his cock, tongue teasing the vein on the underside. Gerard’s hands clung to the sink as Frank’s mouth, Frank’s sinful, hot, perfect, mouth swallowed him down slowly. He could feel the back of Frank’s throat and Frank’s lips wrapped around to the base and Gerard could only make noises and half-broken curses.

“Shit. Nnngh,” Gerard babbled. “Fuck,” he smoothed his fingers over Frank’s hair, not pulling, not pushing, somehow not fucking Frankie’s mouth. His world had slowed, stopped, narrowed until it was Frankie’s mouth and that was it. Frank hummed encouragement as he hollowed out his cheeks and sucked, fingers warm and light on his balls and jerking him just hard enough with his other hand.

“‘m gonna, _Frank_ ,” Gerard managed, and came into Frank’s mouth and Frank swallowed, fingers still stroking, chasing every last drop.

Frank let Gerard’s cock go with a noisy slurp as Gerard slumped against the sink. This hadn’t exactly been the first step of Gerard’s plan for Frank to pay him back, but Gerard would take it. Now if he could just get some of this sweet soap smell off. He was pretty sure more sex would do the trick, but he’d need to get them out of the bathroom before Frank got any more ideas. If they got dirty in such a convenient area, Frank might decide to wash them again and that shit was so not on. Also, Frank was totally redoing his color for him on Saturday.

Frank stood and sloppily kissed Gerard on the mouth, far too energetic and happy, his hard-on digging into Gerard’s hip.

“Mmm,” Gerard hummed into Frank’s mouth, his hand reaching down to palm Frank’s cock. “Let’s do something about that less vertically.”

“I’m not averse to that,” Frank smiled at Gerard pulled him out of the bathroom and pushed him down onto the nearest bed.

“Imagine my shock,” Gerard said wryly, planting a smacky kiss on his cheek.

“The comforter is scratchy,” Frank complained, but he was grinning as he tugged and kicked at the offensive blanket.

“Oversensitive,” Gerard wrestled the comforter to the floor and ended up sideways on the bed, his head on Frank’s thigh.

“Hello, pot? This is the kettle.” Frank said, smiling fondly.

“Again with the talking,” Gerard grumbled, but was smiling back, because it was Frankie. His Frankie, sounding like a smug little motherfucker, and looking at Gerard like he’d hung the fucking moon.

“Then shut me up,” Frank challenged, and how could Gerard say no to that? He shimmied closer and propped himself up on his hands. He kissed the inside of Frank’s thigh, gently nipping the skin, and Frank made a noise between a sigh and a quiet moan.

“Little more to the left than that,” Frank snarked.

Gerard flipped him off without breaking away from the hickey he’d decided would look spectacular there.

“Oh. Oh fuck,” Frank groaned. “Gee, shit.”

Gerard nuzzled up Frank’s thigh and stopped at his balls, rolling them around on his tongue. He sucked lightly on the delicate skin, then licked a long swipe up to the tip of his cock.

“Yes,” Frank gasped when Gerard’s mouth sank down. Gerard made a pleased noise and wrapped his lips around Frank’s length, and this was good, Gerard could do this for hours, Frank hot and heavy on his tongue. Before he could get a good rhythm going, Frankie’s hand was back between Gerard’s legs.

“Hnngh,” Gerard pulled off of Frank’s cock. “Can’t you see I’m busy, asshole?”

“Well, yeah, but you’re too far away,” Frank complained, eyes shining and adorably whiny as he stroked with long, talented fingers. Gerard’s cock was taking a distinct and happy notice in the proceedings. Traitor. Gerard scooted closer, rolling his eyes, and decided get up onto his knees to get a better angle at Frank’s cock as slick fingers teased his balls. When did Frank get lube? Did he stash it near the pillow when Gerard wasn’t looking? He’d expect no less. Hell, he had come to rely on Frank’s resourcefulness.

Gerard had returned to licking down Frank’s cock when he started squirming again, shifting closer to Gerard. “What are you doing?” Gerard spared him a glance.

“Nothing,” Frank replied, all false innocence.

“Right,” Gerard swallowed back down Frank’s cock causing him to groan and start squirming again, scooting even closer, his shoulder against Gerard’s leg, hand encouraging him to move his leg so he was pretty much straddling Frankie’s face. Wait.

All at once, there was Frank’s mouth, catching the tip of Gerard’s half-hard cock in his mouth and Gerard moaned around Frank’s cock. Gerard felt more than heard Frank’s giggle. Well, two could play at that game. He hollowed his cheeks and sucked, flicking his tongue, fingers tight on the shaft, and Frank moaned, pulling off.

“Gee, shit,” Frankie gasped, bucking a little. “Fine.”

Before Gerard could pull off and ask what was so fine, a slick finger slid into his ass, and Gerard practically squawked, thankfully muffled by a mouthful of Frank. But he kept sucking, even as Frank started licking Gerard’s cock again with his finger working deeper into Gerard.

Frank slid a second finger in and started lazily stretching his hole, making Gerard squirm trying to find a better angle, shit, just trying to think. Stupid guitarists and their long, perfect fingers, and their stupid coordination. He swallowed a few times, remembering to breathe, maybe making a couple of high-pitched noises. That must have been good, because Frank gasped, pulling off of Gerard’s cock, stroking instead with his other hand.

“Like that?” Frank asked, smirk evident in his tone, breathless. Still a little shit, even on the brink of orgasm. “Slide so good for me. So hot and tight. Like your mouth. Fuck. So perfect. _Shit._ Gee. Oh. _Your mouth._ ”

Taking his cue, Gerard swallowed Frank down to the hilt and back up and Frank came undone, bucking up and coming in Gerard’s mouth, his strokes on Gerard’s cock stuttering and then increasing speed. Gerard managed to swallow, more on reflex than any indication of brain function. He was pretty sure his brain was going to leak out of his ears instead. He gave one last lick to Frank’s softening cock and pulled off with a moan as Frank added a third finger.

“Frankie,” Gerard groaned.

Frank bent his fingers and changed angle and hit Gerard’s prostate and he thrust into Frank’s palm. He wanted Frank to do that again, or jack him faster, or both, because he was going completely insane.

“Yeah?” Frank’s voice was sex-rough. “C’mon, Gee,” he encouraged and teased against that sweet spot again.

“Nnngh,” Gerard moaned and came all over Frank’s palm and somehow managed to collapse to the side of Frank, with his head resting on Frank’s hip. Frank’s fingers scratched at Gerard’s scalp, and he lazily brought his other hand up to lick the come off.

“So good,” Frank assured, fingers feeling fantastic and making an even bigger mess of Gerard’s hair.

“Such a little fucker,” Gerard muttered, tilting his head into the touch. “Jesus Christ, you drive me crazy.”

“You love it,” Frank grinned, looking smug. It might be a little deserved.

“Maybe,” Gerard mumbled. “It’s not all bad, I guess.” His fingers splayed across Frank’s belly, tracing the sparrows with his fingers. It was actually kind of great. Everything that involved Frank usually was, though.

“Ungrateful shit,” Frank stuck his tongue out, mocking, like a five year old or something.

“Am not!” Gerard pouted. He really should be able to come up with a better retort, but his brain was still kind of mush. He kissed lazily down to Frank’s thigh.

“Get up here,” Frank made grabby hands. “You’re too far away.”

“You just want to get me up there and have your cuddly way with me,” Gerard grumbled good-naturedly.

“You’re fucking right,” Frank grinned and pulled at Gerard’s arm, limbs tangling as Gerard righted himself. They ended up with Frank spooning him.

“Cuddleslut,” Gerard declared, trying to get comfortable. He could still smell honeyed toffee. With a hint of citrus. It was making him irritable. He wiggled around a bit more.

“What?” Frank mumbled and snuggled in closer, his hand stroking Gerard’s hip and Gerard felt Frank’s half hard cock near his thigh.

“That’s why I’m the little spoon, isn’t it?” Gerard asked, going for a grumpy tone, but smiling, grinding his ass against Frank’s cock.

“Ah, you’re on to my evil plan,” Frank said and then giggled, fully hard and nudging insistently against Gerard’s ass.

“It will only be evil if you don’t do anything about it,” Gerard suggested, tilting his hips.

“Well, twist my arm,” Frank purred in his ear, sliding inside, hips pumping slowly. He worked his way in and out, trying his best to drive Gerard crazy. It was working, and his dick had taken notice again, filling out more the deeper Frank went. He rocked up into Gerard, staying slow and even, like he could do this forever.

Gerard felt like he was unravelling, delicious and inevitable. “I’ll twist something,” Gerard started, remembering that they’d been talking, but cut himself off with a moan when Frankie hit him just right. Finally. “That.” Moan. “Keep, keep doing _that._ Christ.”

“This?” Frank asked, staying on that good angle. He didn’t speed up, just held Gerard’s hip tightly, like a promise.

“ _Yes,_ ” Gerard moaned, stroking himself. “That, fuck.”

For once, Frank did as he was told, making his cock hit that spot with every thrust and Gerard moaned for it, rocked against it, whimpered Frank’s name. His orgasm took him by surprise and he came with a shout, tight and wet in cupped fingers. Frank kept thrusting, less measured, less controlled, panting little things that Gerard loved to hear. “Gorgeous like this, always love fucking you, but when you’re like this, fucked-out, fucking gorgeous, so sweet on my cock ‘cause you’ve come for me again and again, take it so good for me, fuck, Gee...” Gerard fucked back into him, curled up and pliant and happily spent, and Frank came with Gerard’s name on his lips, awed and filthy.

They lay there boneless and panting. Frank slid out with a sigh and mumbled something into Gerard’s shoulder.

“Whuzit?” Gerard asked sleepily. “I can’t hear you over my depleted blood supply.”

Frank giggled, “Drama queen. I said one of us should clean up.”

“Tag,” Gerard swatted at Frank’s hip.

“Why me?” Frank argued, but he was still giggling.

“Some asshole made me come three times,” Gerard countered, sounding pretty happy about the whole thing, actually.

“I am awesome,” Frank agreed, yawning.

“Awesome enough to go get a washcloth,” Gerard said, making shooing motions toward the bathroom.

“You’ll probably want to end up under the blankets, too, won’t you?” Frank asked, long-sufferingly, and promptly giggled.

“Blankets wouldn’t go amiss,” Gerard said, feeling sleep settling in.

“Yes, your highness,” Frank stole a kiss and slid out of bed.

Gerard made a contented noise, basking. Frankie was taking care of him, complaining about scratchy blankets and royalty, and all was right with the world.

 

*********************  


  


[2: Coffee Technology and Objectification - Gerard]  


The following morning (for some values of 'morning' that include 'awake after a period of rest' and 'daylight being involved'), they met up for coffee and set list planning (which, in band code, meant Super Smash Brothers) in Ray and Mikey's room. Gerard ambled in, grabbed a carafe of coffee, and sprawled across his brother's bed, confident that he no longer smelled like bees fucking. Just him and Frank fucking, thank you very much. Again, and again, and again. He curled up on his stomach next to Mikey and stole a pillow, trying not to look too much like a smug motherfucker. The rest of the guys were talking about something.

"You're right. He _totally_ has that face." Ray appeared in Gerard's peripheral vision. Gerard worked on making the carafe dispense coffee. It stubbornly resisted his attempts.

"I told you," said Mikey dryly. "Right eyebrow down a little, tongue at the back of his teeth, left corner of his mouth turned up."

"How did I not notice?" Frank looked over.

Gerard was now the uncomfortable center of attention. "What?" They shouldn't make coffee technology difficult.

Frank snorted, trying not to laugh. "You have a face."

"Ye-ess.... and? Ha!" Mug. Coffee. Excellent.

Mikey sighed. "Frank was going to come in and tell us all about his prowess, but then he decided to be all mysterious and shit, so I told him there wasn't a point, even if you didn't tell me later I would know."

"Is there enough coffee in the world? Know what?"

Ray laughed. "Mikey can, apparently, tell how many times you came the previous night."

“What.” Gerard’s tone was flat.

Frank tousled Gerard's hair. "Aww, now that face, I know. That's the ‘I'm-being-objectified’ face."

Gerard poured a second cup and sat up to look at his traitorous brother. "Hmph."

"Oh come on, it's totally obvious," Mikey said. Gerard just raised an eyebrow and primly took another sip of coffee, doing his best to look like he was above all this bullshit and in no way cared about his brother's accuracy.

"Three."

Gerard made a choking-coughing sound and tried to go back to sipping primly. He failed. Frank, by the sound of it, was going to break a rib laughing this hard. "Fuck you. I am discreet, and, and, okay, not subtle, but at least kind of opaque! I am... only moderately translucent!" At this point, Frank and Ray were just making wheezing noises, and even Mikey was biting his lip, trying not to laugh outright.

"Gee..." Mikey broke off to chuckle, which he did not cover at all with the faint sound of clearing his throat, "...actually, it's when you're trying to be discreet that it's a giveaway." Gerard raised an eyebrow as his asshole bandmates recovered enough to listen to his asshole brother.

Assholes.

"It's kind of sweet, really. 'Cause when you've had one, you're just kind of looking around for the next one, and your eyebrows are always up, and when you've had two, you're in a good mood and you smirk when you think other people aren't looking, and when you've had three, you think it would be really rude to talk about how much you're getting when other people maybe aren't getting any, so you try really hard not to look like you got any. But when you've had four, you're relaxed enough that you don't give a shit."

"Or you're asleep," Ray laughed. “Four. Jesus wept. Are you sure he doesn’t have some kind of Dorian Gray thing going on?”

Mikey laughed. “Some little portrait of his junk in an attic somewhere, slowly shrivelling.”

Gerard finished his second cup and glared at Frank. "This is all your fault."

Frank leaned back, lacing his fingers behind his neck in a fake-casual way, chest puffed up.  
"You bet your ass."

"If you hadn't made me use that smelly stuff, I wouldn't have had to make everything smell like sex instead."

"Hey, I won't trouble you with my good shit, then," Frank said, completely unconcerned.

"What stuff?" Ray was curious now.

"Smell his hair."

Gerard rolled his eyes as Mikey and Ray stepped over. He was being sniffed. Ray sat back down on his bed. "Dude, don't take this the wrong way, but I kind of want to eat your hair."

Mikey was still smelling his brother. And making little humming noises.

"Stopit." Gerard twitched his shoulder away from Mikey, whose eyes had gotten kind of... hungry. "I totally get Pikachu now, if we're done making fun of me and sniffing my head?"

"Yeah, whatever, I bet I can still beat you."

"Not if you can't have Yoshi. I'm setting you up to play Kirby, motherfucker."

“Then we’re playing that one level where you always fall off and die, asswipe.”

"Hey, gimme that..."

**********  


  


[3: Sweaty Bassists Need Showers Too - Frank]  


Another blessed hotel night and Frank started to follow Gerard into the room. He was actually looking forward to some sleep, but Mikey stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. Ray lifted a eyebrow in question and Mikey nodded towards Gerard's room. Ray shrugged and followed Gerard in and closed the door.

"What, oh," Frank said, catching on and pleasantly surprised. He might get to snuggle. Mikey was laid-back enough to snuggle. Like a puppy pile. But with only two people. Two people could be a pile. Frank could totally go for that right now, with a sweaty bassist, all on their own. Maybe Frank was a little delirious with fatigue and still riding the stage high. Actually, he'd snuggle a little right now, he decided, and leaned heavily against Mikey. Mikey was warm and still until he opened the door and led them into the room. Then he was still warm, but more wiggly.

Frank burrowed his nose and face into Mikey's chest and inhaled. Mikey smelled kind of nice in a way, tangy sweat with some musk underneath. And oranges, maybe.

"Bees fucking," Frankie decided. That's what Mikey needed to smell like. His second wind was kicking in. He was pretty sure. He had a Mikeyway. He had his bag. His bag had his soap. And a shower was in order.

Frank pulled away to look at Mikey, and found a smirk in the corner of his mouth and something fond there. "What about bees fucking, Frankie?"

"It's something magical that can happen in the shower," Frank explained, giving a lewd wink, which he ruined by giggling.

"I really thought you'd be more interested in the bed," Mikey offered.

"Well yeah, but showers are awesome too, first, and then bed," Frank clarified.

"The bees fucking smell is kinda nice," Mikey agreed, smiling a little, bending down to catch Frank's lips with his mouth. Mikey's were chapped, of course. The guy was cool as fuck, but sometimes he sucked at taking care of himself. Sometimes a lot. Not in the last few years, but Frank remembered when there were things far more threatening than a little chapstick; immanent and frightening. He took a breath. He'd better do something, before he got all nostalgic or protective or some shit.

Frank tilted his head and nuzzled at Mikey's jaw. He loved Mikey's jaw. The strong line of it, the way it curved up to his ear, the way it felt under his lips when there was a little bit of stubble. That wasn't quite what he was after, though. No, he wanted Mikey to make that noise. Frank liked that noise a lot. Placing his lips in the dip where jaw meets neck, he gave a quick lick, then went in for the kill, teeth and vacuum and the feeling of blood warming the skin just under his tongue. Frank sucked a glorious hickey into existence, and Mikey made the groan-moan noise Frank was so fond of. It started all rumbly, and wound up somewhere in the vicinity of a porn soundtrack. It was perfect, and combined with Mikey's now-twitching hips, made it incredibly difficult to make quick work of Mikey's pants. He managed eventually, hands playing counterpoint to his mouth with a few little bites and suckles, and followed quickly with the rest of his clothes.

"You are like a little teacup octopus," Mikey muttered. Stealing another kiss, he worked on getting Frank naked, starting with his pants.

"Hey!" Frank tried for affronted, but couldn't help humming _I’m a Little Teapot_. "Such a dork. Teacup octopus my ass."

"That's what I'm saying," Mikey countered, trying to get Frank’s shirt off, and failing. Frank had things to do, important ones like groping, reaching to turn on the water, maneuvering weirdly-folded hotel towels. And then it was time for other important things, like letting his mouth drift down Mikey's chest and halting at the jut of his hip bone where Frank's lips settled and sucked another bright red circle and moan from Mikey.

"Shower, Frankie," Mikey urged, as the steam from the shower started to cloud the mirror.

"Right, yeah," Frank mumbled, his nose edging closer to Mikey's cock, which had apparently noticed that something interesting was going on. Frank was interested right back, thank you very much.

"Bees fucking," Mikey reminded both of them, maybe a little desperately, "Cocksucking somewhere less slippery."

It was a little saddening, really, this whole safety business. Frank gave amazing head, and he knew it, but he was also pretty sure Gerard would never forgive either of them if they died naked in the bathroom. Even Ray would frown on that. His big shoulders would tense and he would cross his arms, and furrow his brow, and Frown. Frank’s stomach flip-flopped as he tasted the other side of Mikey’s hip, and thoughts of Ray could wait, because Mikey was moaning. Frank smiled against his stomach and then stood, pulling off his shirt. Mikey’s hair was curling from the steam, and his lips were parted, and his eyes were bright, and Frank couldn't resist kissing him, pulling that lower lip into his mouth.

“Right.” Frank reminded himself why they were there, and hauled them both into the tub and under the spray. Mikey's head was directly under the showerhead and he took advantage of his longer hair to sling water into Frank's face.

"Hey asshole," Frank giggled, ducking and reaching for the bottle of body wash. "Are you five all of a sudden?"

"Yeah, you're one to talk," Mikey muttered, but he was smiling. “I’ll have you know I’m six, at the minimum. _You’re_ the five-year-old.”

Frank giggled more and reached up to work the soap into Mikey's hair, deft fingers massaging his scalp. Mikey looked like he was close to purring. Frank was tactile and quickly thorough washing the rest of Mikey, with his hands lingering teasingly in all the right places and Mikey playfully batting them off to wash Frank. Slippery hands and mouths reaching and wrapping and sucking - maybe they were both cephalopods. Maybe Frank didn’t care.

Rinsed and still mostly wet they stumbled out of the shower and toward the nearest bed. Frank gently shoved Mikey toward it and he took the hint, flopping easily on the snow-white comforter. Everything was so clean. And quiet. Frank grabbed the bottle of lube from his bag.

"Turn over," Frank encouraged.

"So bossy," Mikey muttered good-naturedly, and rolled onto his belly.

Frank fiddled with the bottle, "Oh, you haven't seen bossy," he joked, trying for his best sultry tone but only succeeding in giggling more.

"Shutup," Mikey challenged, smile tucked into the corner of his mouth, and waited.

"Make me," Frank countered, never one to disappoint.

Mikey arched up onto his hands and knees, stretching languidly. Warm from the shower, clean and with a few silvery beads of water still on his skin, oh, he _had_ to know how good he looked. His spine curved, he let his head tilt back, his knees spread, not quite waggling his hips, but definitely making his point.

"Oh," Frank spoke, more of an exhale of air than a word, abandoning the bottle of lube near them on the bed. It wasn't important. The bed wasn't important. Fuck. Nothing was as important as the delicious golden boy in front of him. Mikey-fuckin'-Way, ladies and gentlemen. All Frank's right now, and he couldn't keep his hands away from that ass if he tried, like he’d stop breathing if he couldn’t. Frank kissed the dip at the base of Mikey's spine, right above the curve of his ass. Gentle, almost reverent, and Mikey shivered. Then Frank's tongue darted out and licked, a long swipe, and Mikey gasped.

"Frankie," he breathed, sounding just this side of needy. Frank paused for just a moment, and licked again, and didn't stop. Mikey let his head fall onto his hands and started making a noise like he was dying, only it was incredibly fantastic, and it was what Frank had been hoping to hear, and he wanted more. He spread Mikey open with his thumbs, flicked his tongue until he heard a whimper. Frank pointed his tongue to dart inside, working into the taut ring of muscle. That was it. Mikey moaned like a desperate, needy porn star or hungry cat or something, it didn’t matter, it was the sound of Frank short-circuiting his brain and it was glorious. Mikey’s hands fisted the sheets and his legs trembled a little as Frank's tongue plunged a little deeper into his ass, then swirled shallowly.

"Fuck, Frankie, fuck. Shit. Fuck. Nnngh," Mikey groaned, causing Frank to hum in response. It buzzed on his lips, and he knew Mikey could feel it.

"Frankie, fuck me," Mikey begged. "Shit. C'mon. _Frankie._ "

Frank gave one final lick, kissed a cheek and said, "How's that for shutting up?"

"Fuckingchrist," was all Mikey could manage.

Frank made a pleased noise, and reached for the lube, applying liberally, hissing appreciatively at the slide of his own fingers. Frank lined up and started nudging Mikey's tight hole, just dipping and rubbing, adding more lube and doing his level best to drive them both insane, until Mikey reached back and spread himself apart. It was an effort of will on Frank's part, the way he pressed in slow and stopped, gasping as his balls brushed against Mikey's ass. He did not come immediately, he did not pin Mikey and fuck him 'till he screamed, he didn't even twitch that much. Effort. Of. Will.

It helped that Mikey was so hot and tight he didn't know if he _could_ , but still.

"Fucking move," Mikey urged, trying to move away, but Frank's hands on his hips held him steady and Frank took his time sliding out and back in. Slowly, and it was good, it wasn’t quite enough, but it was everything, and then Frank shifted his angle. He sped up a little and hit Mikey right, and it was good, no, it was perfect, and Mikey lifted his head and arched his back and it was too much for both of them.

"Close, Mikes, close," Frankie panted and reached around to jack Mikey's cock.

"Frank, fuck," Mikey moaned and came all over Frank's hand. Frank might have felt bad about not making this last longer if he thought he could feel bad about anything ever again, but there was no room for any of that. No room for anything but Mikey, pale and twitching around him, pulsing tightly. Frank panted, grunted, and came, half sprawling on Mikey's back and half propped on one arm. He kissed the back of Mikey's neck, communicating... something.

"Yeah," Mikey murmured, looking completely boneless, slumping contentedly.

Frank nuzzled the back of Mikey's neck and withdrew gently with a satisfied groan. Frank wiped his hand off on the sheets and gave them both a swipe to remove any stray lube and come. He wrapped an arm around Mikey's waist and dragged them both over to the other bed.

"Mmph," Mikey protested intelligently.

"Just a sec, Mikes," Frank reassured, tugging back the covers and pushing Mikey under them and sliding in behind him. "Two beds, no wet spot."

"I take it back," Mikey mumbled, tucking his head next to Frank's. His hair was still mostly wet. He was gonna give Frank shit for that in the morning. It would be worth it.

"What?" Frank asked, flipping off the light and snuggling in, wrapping and twining around Mikey like a teacup octopus again.

"You're at least seven and a half," Mikey answered.

Frank giggled, "Night, Mikey."

Mikey hummed in response and fell asleep.

****************  


  


[4: Guitarists Are Crafty - Gerard]  


Coffee. Gerard's hindbrain was asking for coffee. It was important. It would help him open his eyes. Open his eyes to whatever the fuck was going on in the lounge. Weirdness. Not the ritual playing of the Xbox. Especially if a hairdo was involved. Wait. What?

"Are you _braiding_ Ray's hair?" Gerard asked, bleary eyes finally focusing on the apparent morning slumber-party that was happening on their bus.

"Yes," Frank chirped, grinning like an asshole while his hands deftly and complicatedly did things to Ray's hair that actually didn't look half bad. Fuckin' Frankie being a braider person. Who’d’ve figured. Gerard would have thought by now that he knew all of Frank's weird hidden talents.

"A French braid," Mikey clarified, like a pedantic asshole, his chin propped on Frank's shoulder watching Frank’s fingers at work.

Gerard nodded. Of course it was a French braid. Of course. Right. He needed more coffee before he was ready to experience Frank and Mikey's Advanced and Practical Macramé Techniques(: For Fun and Profit!). He filled his mug and promptly shuffled back to his bunk. It was safe there. Hairstyles didn't live there. Although it was kind of nice seeing the sides of Ray’s head, he mused fuzzily. It’d been a long time.

He lasted all of three minutes lounging in his bunk until his curiosity got the better of him. He wandered back up front. Anyway, he'd finished his first mug. He should have taken the pot. If they braided his hair he would kill them. Well, unless it looked cool. Unlikely. Killing. Assholes. Coffee.

"Want us to do yours next?" Mikes asked, doing that psychic thing he was apparently good at.

Or maybe Gerard just broadcasted more before his third cup of coffee.

Gerard made a noncommittal sound and went back to sipping his coffee. Something about Mikey this morning. He tried to put his finger on it, staring at his brother. His super comfy-looking, relaxed, snuggling brother.

Mikey lifted his eyebrows, which Gerard met with a pointed look, and Mikey rolled his eyes and went back to braid-watching.

"Assholes! You fucked!" Gerard realized, maybe feeling a little triumphant. And pointing at the two just a little. And thinking maybe they should have invited him. _He_ certainly didn’t get laid last night. Because Ray was... Ray, and Gerard didn’t really know where to go with that. Okay, Gerard thought he knew where he wanted to go with that, but he wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure if Ray wanted to go there, either. It could be that he was being too subtle. Maybe he was just bad at this sort of thing, period. Maybe he should stop this train of thought right the fuck now. He shook his head, trying to clear it.

"He's eight, if you were wondering," Mikey said sagely to Frank and Frank giggled like a motherfucker knowing the context of that shit would.

"And what am I?" Ray asked, catching on. Whether or not Ray understood subtlety, he understood non-linear conversations pretty well, apparently. Or maybe he got a knowledge bonus for the braiding. Plus ten to INT score through hair-knot osmosis circumstance bonus or some shit. Or they could just be assholes.

"Twelve," Frank decided, finishing off the first braid and tying off the end with a band that Mikey handed him.

Oh. "What's the age of my inner child got to do with anything before noon anyway?" Gerard asked, maybe whining a little like the eight-year-old he apparently was. "And why does Toro get to be fucking twelve?"

Frank and Mikes gave him significant looks while Ray simply lifted an eyebrow and crossed his arms. Then they all giggled.

"Fuck you both, very much," Gerard muttered, pouring himself one more cup of coffee and sipping it defiantly, or as close as he could manage.

"We would, but there's not a lot of room in the back," Mikey said, smirking.

"Yeah, a real bed is fun when we do that sort of thing," Frankie agreed, looking a little distant. Maybe even remembering that first time. Oh fuck. That first time. When his little brother surprised the shit out of him by going along with it. And being amazing in the sack like Gerard knew he would be. How could Mikey be anything but amazing in the sack? It was _Mikey_. And the sounds he made, and shit, now Gerard was half-hard thinking about it, and those two fuckers were grinning like they knew what he was thinking. Right. He was going back to his bunk right the fuck now.

"Assholes," Gerard muttered and retreated to not jerk off in his bunk. Nope. Too early for that shit.

Before he could climb back into bed, Mikey caught his elbow. Gerard turned just enough to eye his brother suspiciously. "What, Mikes?" he asked.

"C'mon," Mikey said and pulled Gerard into his bunk. They stretched out side-by-side with Mikey slinging an arm over him, and Gerard nuzzling at the side of Mikey's face with his nose.

"You smell like bees fucking," Gerard said and settled. Mikey hummed in agreement.

"Frankie.” Mikey shrugged. “Now go to sleep and wake up less cranky," he said, teasing.

"Fucking later?" Gerard asked and yawned.

"Fucking later," Mikey agreed. Gerard drifted off with a smile on his face.

 

**********  


  


[5: Grumpiness Was Never an Option - Gerard]  


Gerard woke with Mikey’s hand snaking into his briefs and he smiled, humming a sleepy encouragement.

“Are you still cranky?” Mikey asked, low and tickly in Gerard’s ear. His fingers wrapped around Gerard’s halfway-asleep cock and began stroking, encouraging it to fill.

“I could be,” Gerard said defensively.

“Nope,” Mikey said good-naturedly, “Pretty sure you’d have trouble being cranky right now.” Gerard opened his eyes a little to express his doubt, then paused.

“You’re naked.”

“Yep.”

“Huh. Point taken,” Gerard mused reasonably, and lifted his ass so Mikey could slide off his underwear, which was promptly shoved somewhere down at the foot of the bunk as Mikey retrieved a bottle of lube from Gerard’s stash.

Mikey started to work himself open and Gerard groaned, “Mikey.” He reached down and slid his cock into his fist, lazily fucking up into his hand.

“On second thought, you do-- ah-- sound a little cranky,” Mikey teased, breath hitching as he rocked back against his own fingers.

“C’mon, Mikeyway,” Gerard urged, knowing just by the clench of his jaw that Mikey had worked up to three fingers.

“Impatient, at least, fuck,” Mikey moaned, removing his fingers. “On your back.”

“Bossy,” Gerard grumbled, but he was smiling as Mikey leaned over him, shooing Gerard’s hands away.

Mikey rolled his eyes and stole a quick kiss as he climbed on top of his brother, carefully nudging a knee over as he fumbled for the lube again. He slicked Gerard up, grinning at the moan he got in response, left hand braced on Gerard’s shoulder and his right hand lining himself up. He eased down onto Gerard’s cock, head tilting back, mouth opening soundlessly.

“Mikey,” Gerard moaned, more of an awed exhale of breath than anything, and it cut into a gasp when he felt the touch of Mikey’s ass next to his balls.

“Mmmm?” Mikey hummed, trying to figure out where to put his right hand, his hair brushing the top of the bunk, his hard dick bobbing a little with the movement. Gerard licked his lips.

“Breathe, Mikes,” Gerard reminded, taking his brother’s other hand and putting it on his shoulder. Gerard’s own hands found their way to Mikey’s hips, gripping, waiting to encourage Mikey to ride him. Mikey slid up gingerly, and sighed as he sank back down.

“Ohh.” Mikey swallowed. His fingers dug into Gerard’s collarbones a little. It was good, but nowhere near as good as the wet tightness enveloping him. Hot and perfect and so very _Mikey_.

“Yeah?” Gerard asked, tightening his own fingers, urging Mikey up again.

“Yeah,” Mikey agreed, gasping as he started to get a rhythm. Gerard’s hips thrust up, meeting Mikey thrust for thrust. “Fuck,” he panted.

“C’mon, Mikey,” Gerard groaned at the heat and the pace.

Mikey shifted the angle, leaning more on Gerard, and moaned something unintelligible around the note of middle c and Gerard almost came undone.

“Mikey,” Gerard urged, reaching to stroke Mikey’s leaking cock.

“Gee, fuck, _Gee,_ ” Mikey spluttered and came all over Gerard’s hand.

“Gotcha, Mikes, gotcha,” Gerard whispered desperately before losing the power of speech. Anyone would, inside tight _hot perfect Mikey_ coming around his cock, and _Jesus_ , there just weren’t words, and he lasted three more thrusts before coming with a shout.

Mikey kissed the bend of Gerard’s neck, resting heavily on his chest. Gerard stroked Mikey’s back. Mikey kissed him once more and then eased off Gerard with a grunt.

“Umpf,” Gerard mumbled. He felt very sleepy again, but, it had to be acknowledged, much less cranky. Mikey moved away and he reached for him.

“Hang on a sec,” Mikey reassured, grabbing Gerard’s discarded underwear and giving them a quick wipe-down.

“Hey, those were mostly clean,” Gerard protested, out of principle more than anything else.

“Bullshit,” Mikey countered cheerfully.

“Point,” Gerard grudgingly agreed as Mikey pulled a sheet up to drape over them and snuggled in. Gerard slung an arm over and kissed Mikey.

Mikey smiled. “Love you,” he said, kissing again.

“Love you too, Mikes,” Gerard smiled back and drifted off to sleep.

************  


  


[6: When You Lose Where Each Other Begin and End - Mikey]  


Mikey lay next to Gerard, musing contentedly. He tucked a strand of red hair behind Gerard’s ear and grinned.

Look, it wasn’t weird fucking his brother.

Okay, yeah, other people might think it was weird, but not anybody who'd actually _met_ Gee and Mikey.

They didn't think it was weird, either. There were people who got off on taboos, and that was fine, but it honestly didn't enter into the equation. Mikey knew his brother was hot. He knew his brother was good in bed. He knew he wanted to find out firsthand.

It wasn’t like he'd always known these things. Although, when he was seven, Gerard had come up to him with a weird face. Kind of like the face he made when he was drawing a lot of dead people and he knew the teacher wouldn't like it and might take his paper away. And then he looked at Mikey and frowned. Not an angry frown, a thinking-really-hard frown.

"Mikey, c'mere."

Mikey shuffled over. Gerard looked at him. And looked away. And then looked like he was going to ask a question.

"What, Gee?"

"Just stand still for a sec, I wanna... try something?"

"Okay." Mikey'd started to look at his shoes but then Gerard made himself a little shorter and was in his face and doing something weird with his lips and then he licked inside Mikey's mouth. It was kind of nice, in a squishy way.

"Huh." Mikey said when Gee pulled away. "Whuzzat?"

"Huh. Not sure." His brother had shrugged and gone back to his comic books.

Mikey had mostly forgotten about that. He'd been pretty sure Gerard had, too. Later, like ten years later, there had been some things Gerard had said when he was drunk, but they were vague, and, y’know, drunk. Besides, when he was out of his gourd, Gerard probably said more about Mikey being a velociraptor than Mikey being hot. It's just that since it was Gee, Mikey found them similarly complimentary. But it's not as if you could go and explain this sort of thing to somebody. Drunken sketches of VelociMikey might help with the explaining. Little pointy teeth dripping with gore, and a mohawk instead of a frill, going for Ian Malcolm's knees.

Okay, no, they probably wouldn't help.

Mikey pictured himself on a fainting couch in some shrink's office: "No, doctor, it's just that incest isn't weird if your brother thinks you're a sexy dinosaur. Look, here's a picture." Yeah. _That_ would explain it perfectly. Mikey didn't have to go to a shrink, thank god. He had bandmates.

To be fair, they helped cause the potential weirdness. But they also understood, all of them.

They didn't give the Ways shit for being odd, or being close, or being fuckups. The Ways didn't have to explain that when you know that somebody's got your back, it's more than brotherhood. They didn’t have to explain because the whole band felt that way. Mikey didn't have to tell them that he loved Gerard for letting him be who he was, showing him how to get through school as a freak, and blazing a trail. Gerard didn't have to tell them that when he went away to art school, all his wet dreams became about his brother and that didn't bother him. It helped that they all played together. When they played, they didn’t have to talk. In fact, most of the talking seemed to happen when they hadn't been playing as much. And that's when it could get bad. It usually got better again once they picked up their gear and got it together. It was funny, then, because you could read them all, see what had been happening. Mikey remembered what it was like, ages ago, when they’d come back to rehearse a new song or something and they’d been doing too much talking and not enough playing.

Ray tuning with a set jaw, reworking the same two strings over and over: _This song has to be perfect._

Bob playing paradiddles through their complexities, then sighing and starting again: _I'm waiting._

Frank riffing on something in C minor: _I'm worried_. Changing to G# major, A# major, C minor: _Where the fuck is Gerard?_

Gerard walking into the room, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth, clearing his throat: _I think we can do this. We can do this?_

Mikey starting up the bass line to the song, working the foundation into their minds: _We can do this_.

...or maybe Mikey was full of shit, and it wasn't like that at all. It didn't matter. They did get pointy and restless when they weren't playing, though. When they finished a tour it was always, at first. All the sleeping and eating and doing what they wanted, catching up on things. Like doing laundry, and seeing friends, and fucking. So when Gerard had invited himself and his brother over to Frank's apartment and they'd only been off tour for a month, Mikey thought maybe it'd be too soon. Because it was usually that the first three weeks back they spent catching up on things and avoiding each other some to stay sane, and then in the fourth week there was usually a lot more fucking around and the occasional desperate, sweaty jam session when they remembered that not playing made them itchy. Only after that did things mellow out. It wasn’t that he minded Gee and Frank being all over each other, it was just harder to get through a decent game of Halo that way, let alone MtG. But it was a laid-back evening, and... nice. Nice to be in worn-out shirts and jeans, without makeup and sound checks. Nice to be splayed out on the couch between Frank and Gee, as they all lost this impossible level yet again.

Gerard leaned back and dropped his controller on the armrest. Mikey laughed, and Frank groaned. "Alright, that's it. It’s time to cheat. I'm going to go look it up. We have to be missing something." He stood up and shook out his hair. "I'm coming back with the answer. And victory."

Mikey and Gerard waited until he was upstairs before looking at each other and laughing. "Is it just me, or is he a little wound up?" Mikey snickered.

"Definitely not just you," Gerard confirmed, and they laughed again. Gerard got quiet first, then started chewing on his lip, slowly beginning to grin.

"What?"

Gee extricated himself from Mikey and the couch cushions, stood, and offered a hand. "Come upstairs with me. We're gonna surprise Frankie."

Mikey laughed, and let himself be pulled up. "This oughta be good."

They climbed the stairs together, and paused at the partway-open door.

Gee tapped on the door and pushed it open to reveal Frank sitting on his bed, sulkily poking his laptop keyboard.

"You guys, this can't be right. It says we missed a checkpoint. That doorway wasn't even there!"

"Lemme see." Gee went to look over Frank's right shoulder, and Mikey his left.

"Hmmm," Mikey lied, "I don't remember seeing that." Gerard gave him a look over Frank's head. Mikey shrugged. He was shit at first-person shooters, okay? He was busy dying at the time.

"I definitely didn't see it," Gee mused, making fun of Mikey's inability to recognize one thing from another when all of them were covered in blood and looking for ammo. Frank was grumpily scrolling up and down the page. Gerard took the opportunity to raise a speculative eyebrow at Mikey.

Oh. _Oh._ Yeah, _that_ would probably surprise Frank pretty good. Mikey thought for a moment, then lifted his chin in a minimalist nod.

Gerard gave him a serious face back, nervously licking his lips.

Mikey grinned, then nodded again, more clearly this time. Of course he was sure. This was going to be fun. Gerard nodded back, then tilted his head down a bit.

"Frank?"

"Mmm."

"We'll figure it out tomorrow."

Frank bounced with frustration. "But we were just making progress!"

Gerard pitched his voice slightly lower and let his lips brush Frank's ear. "I promise, we'll figure it out tomorrow."

Frank closed the lid of the laptop reluctantly and looked from Gerard to Mikey and back, suddenly a little confused. Gerard's lips twitched, and he leaned back in. "We have all the time in the world, Frankie," Gee was practically cooing.

"Mmm-hmmm..." Mikey hummed into Frank's other ear, warm and languid.

Frank's expression was a thing of beauty, shock and suspicion melting into something at the corners of his eyes and the twist of his lips. Like someone had told him he could have an army of nonviral fast zombies and he was afraid to ask if he’d heard that right. He opened his mouth, closed it. Swallowed.

“Uh-oh. Mikes...” Gerard tiptoed his fingers across Frank’s back and onto Mikey’s shoulder.

Mikey sighed heavily, playing along. “Shit, we broke him _already_?”

Gerard went back to Frank’s ear, licking slowly from earlobe to crest, and Mikey took the same tack, nipping here and there.

“…waitwawawaitwait!” The brothers Way paused expectantly. Frank looked at Mikey. And at Gerard. And at Mikey. And at Gerard. “Does this mean you’re both going to get naked and spend the night?” A shit-eating grin began to dawn.

“I think…” Gee looked to Mikey.

“…that was the plan, yes.” Mikey confirmed, grinning back.

Cue shit-eating grin in full force. Frank pulled off his shirt, leaned back, and in one clumsy movement, pulled off his jeans and shorts and kicked clothes and laptop to the floor, lying naked on his bed with a Way to either side.

“This is the best plan _ever_.”

Mikey and Gerard collapsed in laughter. Frank was able to wait a good thirty seconds before tugging impatiently at the hem of Gee’s shirt. Gerard sat back up, looking at the other two with a little smile.

“What, Gee?” Mikey asked, trying to identify the strange face his brother was making, which was shortly hidden behind a flash of t-shirt. The ragged thing joined the pile at the foot of the bed.

“Just… sit up for a sec. I wanna…” Mikey sat up and leaned over Frank’s body, lifting his arms to let Gerard pull off his shirt. Gerard touched Mikey’s jaw with two fingers, brushed his cheek with his thumb, and kissed him. It was familiar. It was nice. It was making Frank make some fascinating noises. Mikey let his lips part, Gerard's tongue just touched his, and then Mikey was kissing back and it was past nice into fucking _hot_. At least, it was until Mikey sucked Gerard's tongue into his mouth and Gerard made a hilarious "mnngh!" noise, which made both of them start snickering and break off the kiss, bumping their heads together affectionately. Gerard looked down.

"Not that I mind, but shouldn't we be doing that?"

Frank's hand stilled, almost guiltily, on his cock. "I dunno? You're still wearing pants, and I didn't want to interrupt or anything..." he trailed off as Mikey started laughing.

"Are you always this whiny in bed?" Gerard and Frank looked at him. Mikey looked at Gerard.

"Seriously, he just said he had to start jerking off 'cause we weren't naked enough and too busy making out. Frank," he said, standing up and unbuttoning his jeans, smirking as he wiggled out of tiny black briefs for an audience of two, "seriously," he repeated. "Your life is just incredibly difficult. I don't know how you manage."

Gerard snorted, shook his head, and then stood, shucking off his own pants.

Frank, to his credit, flopped back on the bed in full woe-is-me mode, clutching a hand delicately to his forehead and grinning. “I dunno, guys, it’s just so...” Grin. “...hard.”

They tackled him then, tickling and biting, until Frank’s hands turned it into a gropefest, and suddenly there was a lot more going on to interest Mikey than snark. Gerard caught his eye, and they managed to pin Frank down with their mouths, sliding and licking until they each had a nipple. Just like that, Frank was much less whiny and victimized, and much more incoherent and squirmy. Emphasis on the squirming. After he’d managed to knock off Mikey’s glasses and pull Gerard’s hair a little too hard, each of them took a wrist, too. Gerard knitted his fingers with Frank’s, and began to kiss down his chest. Yeah, Mikey knew where this was going and wanted to see it. Taste it on Frank’s tongue. Mikey sat up, kissing Frank deeply, pressing his wrist into the mattress just above his head. He bided his time, cupping Frank’s jaw, mapping the flavors of his mouth, until...

“Hnngrrd,” Frank moaned, and broke off the kiss to gasp, “Fuck,” and look desperately at Mikey.

Yeah. That’s kind of what he thought it’d be like, getting blown by Gerard. Mikey watched Frank’s face, glancing down to his brother’s mouth, trying to decide which one of them he wanted to be more. He’d start with Gerard, he decided, giving Frank one more kiss before letting go and scooting down the bed. Gerard was... busy, and fuck, he looked perfect with his mouth full, his cheeks hollowed, eyes fluttering shut. Mikey had to touch, running a finger gently along Gerard’s cheekbone to his chin, and Gerard just leaned into it, making a pleased humming noise. Frank bucked up into his mouth, and Gerard swallowed him down, then pulled off, and looked over at Mikey.

Gee’s pupils were dilated, his lips were red and swollen, and a strand of hair had fallen over one eye. He looked beautiful, and Mikey knew exactly what they both wanted to do in that moment. He leaned over, pulling Gerard’s face to his, and kissed him deeply, tongue sliding inside. He tasted Frank, a little salt with a little tang, and something unmistakable and Gerard underneath. Frank made a distinct noise of want, and Mikey smiled.

Mikey pulled away, the corner of his mouth still lifted in a smirk, and said, “My turn.” Gerard nodded, his smile coy and wicked at the same time.

“Fucking finally,” Frankie muttered as he licked his lips and grinned like a motherfucker.

“Shut up, Frankie,” they said in unison, which completely failed to diminish the grin.  
Mikey moved down the bed, placing one hand on Frank’s hip, his fingers splaying long enough to tease the top of his happy trail. Mikey could feel the heat on his face when he met Frank’s smirk with one of his own and used his other hand to brush up against Frank’s balls, watching him squirm.

“Fucking _tease_ , Mikeyway,” Frank groaned, rocking up against Mikey’s hand.

Mikey chose that moment to swallow Frank down to the hilt, and Frank gasped, “Jesus,” a little desperately. Mikey pulled back up and hollowed out his cheeks to suck on the tip and Frank rolled his head back, moaning. Gerard had busied himself with sucking a hickey on Frankie’s side and leaned over to Mikey, tweaking one of Frank’s nipples almost absentmindedly.

“That’s it, Mikes,” Gerard purred in his ear. “He really likes it when you tongue his slit a little.”

Mikey hummed in response and followed his brother’s suggestion, causing Frank to shout and babble curses incoherently.

“Oh fuck, oh shit, fuck, fuck fuck,” Frankie moaned, trying to arch his hips against Mikey’s hand. Mikey swallowed back down to the base and back up again, cupping Frank’s balls in his fingers teasingly. He glanced over, met Gerard’s eyes, and found nothing but unfiltered lust there.

“Mikes,” Frankie said, voice breaking, and that was all the warning he had before Frank came. Mikey pulled off, come splashing on his chin. Gerard gasped at the sight, and reached out, fingers brushing some of the come off. Mikey darted his tongue out, catching Gerard’s fingers before Gerard could lick them - Mikey did it for him instead, lapping gently, and Gerard and Frank made a pleased noise in unison.

Mikey smirked and wiped the rest of Frank’s spunk off of his chin and onto the other man’s thigh, watching him squawk, giggle, and squirm away. He thought he might have heard Frank leave the room, but Mikey had another focus. His lips found his brother’s and he kissed him greedily, sucking on his lip, their groans meeting each other in different octaves. Mikey had a fleeting thought that Gerard was harmonizing with him. He pushed it aside as he pushed Gee down onto the bed.

Gerard propped himself back on a pillow and encouraged Mikey to get comfortable on his hands and knees, straddling Gerard.

Mikey bent his head and nuzzled at Gerard’s neck. He licked once, kissed the skin, then clamped down, all lips and teeth, sucking till he could feel the blood warming the surface. He could feel the moan Gerard made, sound tickling his lips, his ear, Gerard’s fingers tangling in his hair.

All at once, a hand touched his hip and snaked down to his cup his ass. He jerked, mouth breaking free. He’d almost forgotten about Frankie, who simply kissed his shoulder, his forehead resting there. Gerard’s hand cupped Mikey’s cheek, bringing Mikey’s focus back on him. Gee stole another kiss and pulled back, his eyes flashing to Frankie, then back at Mikey.

The fingers of the hand cupping Mikey’s face stroked his cheek as Gerard kissed him again. Gerard pulled back and fixed him with a look as Gerard’s other hand untangled from Mikey’s hair, but it wasn’t as important, not with his brother’s eyes holding him there, not with those fingers grounding him.

“What?” Mikey asked, his voice sounding like sandpaper.

Gerard smiled, a wickedness tucked in the corners of his lips, and slid a lube-covered finger into Mikey’s hole. Mikey gasped at the coldness of it, the surprise, and Gerard looked a little smug.

“Oh,” Mikey fought to keep still at the intrusion, the burn of it. Frank kissed his shoulder again. “More,” Mikey encouraged, once his finger slid freely.

Gerard obliged, easing another finger in then carefully scissoring, “Easy, Mikes, easy,” he encouraged to counter Mikey’s moans, reverent almost, taking such care. Mikey didn’t know if he wanted care or just wanted Gerard to get on with it. But this was Gerard, who’d always taken care of him, always watched out for him. The fingers in him now were the same fingers that had tended scraped knees, held his hand crossing the street, and cleaned his glasses. Those fingers were everything and no match for the naked adoration and want in his brother’s face as he added a third finger, making Mikey moan almost brokenly, feeling like he might come apart at the seams, feeling like this might be everything, feeling his cock heavy and hard between his legs.

“Fuck, Mikes, the way you sound,” Gerard groaned, “Just makes me want to...”, and he pressed deeply, stretching then fucking Mikey’s hole, and Mikey keened. He shifted, trying to find a better angle, trying to get his brother’s fingers deeper, trying for everything. He wanted it all. He needed to know. He needed more.

And he was getting... less. Gerard’s fingers left him, but he was smiling reassuringly, nodding and looking behind Mikey’s shoulder, and then Frank was nudging up against him, pushing inside, and it was different than Gerard’s fingers, it was almost good. Almost so good. He just had to--

“Wait,” Gee said softly, looking at Frank, who stilled himself, resting his hands on Mikey’s hips. Gerard reached down, palming Mikey’s cock, watching him closely. And Mikey couldn’t think, not with Frank inside him, kissing his shoulder again, not with Gerard jerking him off, not with those eyes pinning him down.

“Okay,” Gerard smiled, hand still moving, and Frank slid in more, going slowly, watching Gerard’s face.

“Mikes, fuck,” Frankie whispered, a little awed sounding as he bottomed out, and Mikey tried to breathe. The air came to his lungs in ragged stutters. It was so much, almost too much, feeling like he might split from Frank filling him up and Gerard’s steadfast gaze.

Gerard licked his lips, thumb teasing the slit of Mikey’s cock. “How does he feel, Frankie?” Gerard asked.

“Amazing,” Frank answered, waiting for his cue. “Tight, Gee. Hot and tight. _Gee._ ”

Gerard nodded and Frank slid nearly completely back out and immediately back in, not as slow, but enough to make Mikey groan at the feel of it. He pushed back into the thrust, then back into his brother’s hand as Frank pulled out only to push back in just a little faster but still teasingly slow.

“Shit,” Mikey said, his voice pitched low, strung tight. “Guys, _please._ ”

“What’s that, Mikes?” Gerard asked, not pausing with his strokes and Frank not pausing with his teasing thrusts. Bastards. Fantastic, amazing, horrible bastards.

“Please, faster, more, either of you, fuck, both of you,” Mikey babbled, not wanting to blink, barely wanting to breathe, “Fuck. Just. _Anything._ ”

Gerard leaned forward, propped up on one arm, a secret little smile twisting his lips, and said softly in Mikey’s ear, “I’ve been waiting to see this forever. Not with Frank personally, it’s just that,” and he panted, hips jerking, “I’ve always wanted to see you. Get. _Fucked_.” Gerard’s voice was low and dangerous and vehement, and Mikey melted somewhere inside, like butter over popcorn except filthy and perfect. Gerard kissed his jaw and leaned back, still smiling.

“C’mon,” Gerard urged, louder, and that was all the cue Frank needed to start quickening his thrusts in time with Gerard’s strokes.

Just when Mikey thought the pace itself would undo him, Gerard nodded and Frank shifted his angle and started hitting just right and Mikey heard a whine-keening noise and realized he was making it. Frank panted against his shoulder. It could have been a word, Mikey couldn’t be sure.

“Close,” Mikey moaned. “ _Gee._ ”

“Close,” Frankie echoed, teeth grazing Mikey’s shoulder.

“Now,” Gerard allowed through gritted teeth, and they all came almost at once. Frankie deep inside Mikey, throbbing and insistent, then Mikey all over Gerard’s hand an instant later, and Gerard’s come was somehow on the inside of his thigh. Gerard had orchestrated them like a symphony. Fucker. Show-off. Something. Mikey felt boneless and his mind was mush and he almost couldn’t believe it all. Gerard’s arms were mostly holding him up.

Frank eased out as gently as he could and then promptly collapsed beside the Ways on the bed. “That was awesome,” Frank said, sounding completely sated and grinning smugly. “And someone else is cleaning up. Aren’t you, Gee?”

“Mmm,” Mikey nodded intelligently, and Gerard kissed his mouth as he eased out from under Mikey and encouraged him to lay on his side.

“Got it,” Gerard agreed. He had the nerve to look smooth about it all. Mikey figured he was probably a little entitled. He came back with washcloths and a towel.

 _That’s why we’re at Frank’s_ , Mikey thought sleepily. _Clean linens_. They wiped off and got under the covers, Gerard happily in the middle. _The queen-size doesn’t hurt, either_. Mikey grinned as Gerard tangled their legs in bed, flopping ungainly, comfortably, like they always did when they were lying next to each other, or even sitting close. Nothing was wrong. Nothing was even all that different. He played with Gerard’s hair absentmindedly. They did shit like this all the time. Just usually a little less naked and with fewer orgasms. Which was, honestly, a sad thing, Mikey reflected, watching Gerard lean into his touch as usual. They could fix that now. It’s not like the band would mind. That’s just how things were. When they were together, they were... bandsexual. It was home, work, play, friends, and lovers. And it’d always been a little like that with him and Gerard. When they were together, they were GerardandMikeyway.

At any rate, he mused, untangling his legs a bit, all of that probably meant it was okay to do whatever the hell he wanted. So he cuddled against Gerard, kissed down his shoulder, under the covers and down his belly to his thigh.

“...what’s Mikey doing?” asked Frank groggily.

“Um. Pretty sure he’s gonna.. ahh...Ha _aa_ ungh, ahem,” Gerard managed as Mikey settled comfortably between his legs and started sucking, “do... that. Yeah.” Mikey felt a rush of cool air as Frank lifted the blanket, peering down. He kept sucking, lost in the feel of Gerard slowly hardening. First a soft mouthful, easy to take, easy to taste. Then he’d licked off all the salt from last time, and was left with the latent coppery taste of blood rushing underneath the skin, and then suddenly the head of Gerard’s cock was nudging at Mikey’s throat, velvety, leaving barely any room for his tongue.

“Fuck, isn’t he good at that,” Frank said reverently, still looking down, finally just pushing the blanket away. Mikey looked up and blushed, smiling in the corners of his eyes.

“Yeah,” Gerard whispered, tucking a strand of Mikey’s hair behind his ear, a familiar gesture. He left his hand there, fingertips brushing the side of Mikey’s head.

“I wanna see you come in his mouth,” Frank murmured, and Gerard groaned. Mikey hummed, tasting salt again, and wrapped his hand around the base of Gerard’s cock. He stroked, head bobbing in time with his fingers. He looked up, pulling off but still moving his hand, a challenge in his eyes.

“Me too,” he said, enjoying the way his brother’s eyes darkened, and got back to work, making pleased noises as his mouth filled. He could hear Frank, muttering into Gerard’s ear, filthy nothings of which Mikey could catch the occasional word.

“Goddamn hot... wanna see... fuck... like that,” was all he could catch, but there were other things on his mind, and his tongue, and Gerard’s fingers tightened, clutching a few strands of his hair. Mikey could _feel_ Gerard looking at him.

“Mikey...!” He looked up in time to see Gerard screw his eyes tightly shut, and reflexively closed his own, a moment before salt and heat flooded his mouth. He swallowed. Yeah, that tasted like Gerard, filthy musky-sweet. He waited until he was sure Gee was done, gave a few extra licks to watch him twitch, and laid his head on a pale thigh, quietly enjoying the moment. Gerard’s breathing slowed to normal. Mikey felt gentle fingers on his scalp, skritching pleasantly. _Frank_ , he thought, and glanced up. Yep. Definitely a tattooed arm. Mikey sighed, content. Until Frank’s fingers started tugging on his ear, anyway. He took the hint and climbed up between the two of them, Gee rolling onto his side. Mikey threw an arm over him, curling up. Gerard was a rag doll, soft, warm, and strangely good-smelling, and Frankie was solid and stroking Mikey’s thigh with his long fingers. Frankie was solid all over, come to think, and Mikey pressed up against him. Frank made a pleased little noise, and wiggled. That felt pretty nice, actually, and Mikey wiggled back. Gerard made a sleepily interested noise, and joined in the general wiggling, which was beginning to turn into a sweaty pile of grinding bandmates.

Mikey leaned to kiss Gerard’s neck, and Frank pressed his cock against Mikey’s ass, and they couldn’t possibly go another round. Or could they? Whenever they were on tour, it was all promises and wishes. Sometimes one-upmanship. “When we get off tour, I’m taking a three-hour bath. Then all of you are coming over to my place to watch Transformers, and do nothing else. Well, maybe drink beer and eat Lucky Charms.” Frankie. “Okay, except for the cereal. When we get off tour, I’m cooking a six-course meal. And I won’t eat anything that’s come out of a box for a month.” Ray. “When we get off tour, I’m buying myself a better drafting desk. With ergonomic everything. And I’m never drawing on napkins again.” Gerard.

“I’ll be eating pizza,” Mikey had said once. They’d all looked at him like he was crazy. Nobody wanted pizza after tour.

“Pete’s off tour and Alicia’s got a break coming. We’re locking the door. Food can be delivered.” He’d said it with quiet determination. They all laughed, but he’d definitely won that round.

So yeah, tonight was the sort of catching-up you dream about for months. And this might never happen again. With Frank, probably. With Gerard, almost certainly. But with both of them? Well-rested? In a real bed? With no place to be tomorrow? This could be it, and he wasn’t letting it go. There were still things he wanted. There were still things he knew Gerard wanted. And if the way Frank was rubbing up against him was any indication...

“You guys are staying for the morning, too, right?” Frankie read his mind.

“Do we have to...mm, Mikey... wake up in the actual morning?” Gerard countered.

“Pretty sure that was just a way to ask if we can have sex again tomorrow, Gee.” Mikey kissed Gerard’s neck a few more times, and was rewarded with moans.

“Will you bring the coffee?” The smile in Gerard’s voice was audible, and Mikey waited, knowing it wasn’t directed at him.

“I have a pot of medium-roast Sumatra set to brew at one.” Frank was practically preening.

“You are the perfect man.”

“You just love me for my programmable coffeepot.”

Mikey had heard this one a lot, so he jumped in on the next cue. “No, he loves you for your ability to _set_ your programmable coffeepot. He claims his doesn’t work.”

“It doesn’t!” Gerard pretended his usual outrage, and Mikey took the opportunity to pin his shoulder and roll on top of him.

“Uh-huh,” he deadpanned, and kissed Gerard while Frank giggled. It wasn’t long until they were rubbing against each other, with Frank strangely quiet, save for a few gasps. Mikey reached for the lube, filled his palm with it, let it slide over his fingers.

“Gee.”

Gerard looked up, breathing heavily. Mikey swallowed.

“Can I?” Mikey asked quietly. He didn’t even gesture.

“No.” Gerard smiled.

“Oh.” There was something Mikey wasn’t getting. Did he do something wrong? Was he keeping them awake? Did he miss some sort of cue?

“I mean.” Gerard blushed and grabbed Mikey’s lube-covered hand by the wrist, directing it to Mikey’s cock instead. “I mean I just want to feel...just you, Mikey.”

“Gee...” Mikey could feel his jaw go a little slack, because, fuck, that was hot, but.

Something glinted in Gerard’s eyes, and he tightened his grip on Mikey’s wrist. “For days, preferably.”

“ _Oh_.” Mikey let Gerard move his hand, stroking. Gerard’s fingers trailed away, and he rolled a bit, adjusting while Mikey leaned over him. “Like this?”

Gerard wrapped his legs around Mikey’s waist and raised an eyebrow. Okay, like this, then. Mikey’s lips quirked, and he looked over at Frank. His eyes were dark and focused, but he grinned and pulled up a pillow, shamelessly angling for a good view. Mikey rolled his eyes, but was soon distracted by Gerard arching up against him pointedly. Mikey swallowed. He tilted his hips, and pressed, and Gee was gasping and almost wailing, and so, so tight. He stopped as soon as he was in, trying to remember how to breathe, but Gerard just pulled him in closer with his arms and legs and so Mikey kept going, so slowly. It seemed like years passed before he was all the way in, and that was okay, Mikey could totally deal with losing time to the sweet tight slide into Gerard’s ass. He didn’t try to stop again, he just opened his eyes and snapped his hips. He locked eyes with Gerard, and the look on his face was a thing of beauty, all wide-eyed and flushed, and Mikey couldn’t stop now if he’d wanted.

Gerard dropped one of his hands away from Mikey’s neck and shifted, reaching down, but another hand beat him to the punch. He looked over at Frankie, moaning something sweetly wicked, and put his hands back where they’d been. Frankie must have been doing something right, because Gee couldn’t stop gasping and twitching, and it was fucking pretty.

“Yeah, god, love the way you fucking take it,” Frankie was whispering. “Isn’t he good, Mikey?”

“So good,” Mikey managed, and sweat was prickling on his back, pressure was building deep in his belly, and Gee was spasming around his cock and shouting his name, obscene and perfect. Mikey made a choked sound and plowed Gerard into the mattress, biting his shoulder, seeing stars.

It was a few minutes before any of them moved. Voluntarily, anyway. They were sticky, sweaty, and fucked into oblivion. Mikey moved a couple of limbs so he wasn’t crushing anybody.

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah.”

“I’d just like to note, for the record, that we’re amazing.”

“Yeah.”

“I love you.”

“He knows.”

“What are you, Yoda?”

“Mmm! Knows he does. Love me too, you do.”

“Yoda is taller.”

“Fuck you.”

“Tomorrow.”

Mikey couldn’t really remember exactly who had said what, but it didn’t matter. Point was, it wasn’t weird. Awesome, filthy, hopelessly full of dorky in-jokes, but surprisingly simple.

**************  


  


[7: What Happens When There’s a Chance Anyone Could See - Ray]

"Your shoelace is untied."

Ray looked down. His left shoelace was indeed, as Gerard pointed out, untied. He looked around for someplace to set his beer, but Gerard had already knelt by his foot, deftly tying a double-bow before looking up and biting his lip.

"Oh. Thanks."

"No problem." Gerard stood and ran a hand through crayola-red hair, started to say something, then patted his pockets like he was looking for a lighter, and walked away.

Whatever. Time to set up for the show.

As it turned out, the show was electric. Like all shows were, only. More. Ray could feel it teasing along his spine, could taste it in the air. It didn't matter what they threw at the crowd, they gave it back tenfold and it felt fucking awesome. Not only that, but Ray was on fire, he could feel it, shredding and thrashing and grinning like a maniac. Hair in his face, head-banging unabashedly to the music and only getting tripped up in his cord a little, once, caught in another world. He looked at his own deft fingers flying across the frets of his guitar, blurring at times but always finding their place, sure, strong, never missing a note. He loved his job. He loved this band. He was in his element. He wasn’t the only one who felt it, either. Frank couldn't stay away from him, though he did take a break to end up lying on the stage with Gerard straddling him like old times.

But once that was done, he was back into Ray's space. Nuzzling against Ray's shoulder and neck, resting his head on Ray's shoulder, occasionally nipping-not quite a bite, but enough to show his interest.

Ray wasn’t really sure what was going on, but he gave Frankie an amused eyebrow. Might have been a little frustration there too, especially after Frank practically humped his leg during Destroya while Mikey smirked at them and Gerard pouted a little, but recovered by distracting the entire room with his panting “ah-ah-ah”s. Which was, Ray had to admit, always pretty hot. It was even better when Gee leaned into the microphone, foot up on the monitor, sliding a hand over his own neck, down his chest, over his crotch. He arched against the heel of his hand, throwing his head back, and the fans screamed. Frank and Ray watched and jammed, Mikey’s smirk widened, and Ray thought maybe Frank should make Gerard jealous onstage a little more often.

No sooner had Frank handed off his guitar and witnessed the roadie scramble away with it, he grinned over his shoulder at Ray and sauntered offstage.

The face he made when Ray's hand landed on his shoulder and spun him around was perfect, and Ray knew he’d been asking for it, knew this was what Frank had wanted, angling them toward the nearest wall and convenient dark corner.

"Frankie," Ray tsked against the side of Frank's head. "What the fuck?"

Frank's hand reached for the front of Ray's pants to find Ray half-hard, and he smiled his satisfaction. Frank tilted his head and stole a quick kiss. "Fuck is right," he said, and giggled.

"Motherfucker," Ray muttered, but he was smiling. He pushed his crotch against Frank's hand, trying for some friction. "Get on that then."

"Here?" Frank asked, a wild look in his eyes.

"Where else?" Ray smirked. If Frank wanted it, he was gonna fuckin’ get it. Right here. Here and now, with the show still singing in his blood, that’s how he wanted Frankie.

"The green room is kinda far," Frank agreed and quickly unbuckled Ray's pants, unzipped the fly and freed Ray's hard cock from his boxers.

Ray groaned as Frank thumbed the tip of his cock, smearing the precome. "Suck me, Frankie."

Frank grinned and dropped down to his knees like he'd been waiting for it all night. Ray looked down at him, bracing himself against the wall. When Frank licked down to the base of his cock, tongue teasing the underside, he didn't buck, but it was a close thing. It had been a while since the two of them had done anything and Frank was a fantastic cocksucker.

Ray placed one hand on Frank's head and guided Frank's mouth down his cock, urging him to take every inch down his throat. Frank didn't breathe, didn't choke, just swallowed Ray down like his cock was a cold beer on a hot day. Frank pulled back and sucked a little more leisurely, lifting his chin. It was close to the same tell he had on stage when he was waiting for Ray to play a good line, and Ray couldn't let that go, couldn't let Frank's mouth go without pumping his hips, and this was heaven, it had to be. A good gig, a packed crowd, a tight set, and fucking Frank’s mouth. Ray's fingers tightened in his hair, and Frank obligingly made little noises that Ray couldn't quite hear but could feel.

He didn't last very long, but that was probably good considering their location, and besides, nights like this were foreplay for everybody. Frank rose from the floor and up onto his toes and gave Ray a kiss. Ray could taste salt there, himself and Frank mingling together.

"Your turn," Ray said reaching to return the favor, but Frank neatly tucked him back into his pants.

"I think I can make it down the hall, at least," Frank countered, his voice rough from the show and sex.

Ray smiled. Frank was just full of good ideas.

“You sure?”

“I’m sure,” Frank nodded, grinning ear-to-ear. “See, there’s this funny little couch in the dressing room.”

“Uh-huh?” Ray started walking in that direction with Frank.

“And I really want to bend you over it, see,” Frank said, in a perfectly normal tone of voice so anybody could hear.

“I... ah. I see.” Ray tried to copy Frank’s nonchalance, wincing when his voice cracked instead. They made it to the door, and Frank held it open for Ray, all chivalry and mischief.

He got up on tiptoe, whispering in Ray’s ear as he walked by. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard the roadies will hear you.”

Ray tripped, cursing. Frank was going to be the death of him yet. Especially with that quiet little giggle he made, slamming the door shut. Ray stank. He hurt. His shirt and hair were stuck to him. Coming in Frank’s mouth (and oh, fuck, that was hot) had reminded him just how sleepy he was. He could eat a horse. He wasn’t really tracking things mentally. But none of that shit mattered. How could anything like that matter right now? Not with Frank’s promise echoing in his ears, not with the crazy, glorious lust he could see dancing across Frank’s face.

Frank bit his lip and just stared with eyes that were huge, dark, and totally focused on Ray. It was just a split second, but there was a tightness in Ray’s stomach that hadn’t been there before, and his cock hadn’t gotten a chance to soften, and it sure as fuck wasn’t going to now, and this. This was why nobody minded Frank screwing everybody all the time. Because when he was with you, there was nothing else in the world. Which was ridiculous, because it was _Frankie_ , and if he was awake he was always six places at once and climbing on things and talking. Except... Except for when he was really into whatever song he was playing, and sometimes whatever book he was reading, or wanted to fuck. And he definitely wanted to fuck Ray. Right now.

Frank pushed Ray against the door, all unsubtle kisses and grabbing off shirts. He took the end of Ray’s belt in hand, pushing them over to the couch, working on Ray’s belt buckle. Ray followed, trying not to trip over shit they’d left lying around as he backed up. He leaned down and stole another kiss, making a little surprised noise when his hips hit the back of the couch. Frankie had managed to reopen Ray’s belt and trousers, and Ray reached to do the same, but Frank just cupped his hand over Ray’s and slipped both their hands to the jut of Frank’s cock under his jeans, grinding for a moment before letting go and pulling away a little.

“Not yet,” Frank spoke into Ray’s ear, moving to turn Ray around, hands insistent on Ray’s waist.

Frank tugged Ray’s pants and underwear to pool on the floor at his feet and nudged against Ray with his hips, pressing a denim-covered hard-on into Ray’s ass to encourage him to bend. It worked. Ray arched his back, braced on his elbows and tried his best to not squirm, or hump the couch, or demand that Frank hurry.

“Fuck, yes,” Frank muttered appreciatively, voice hungry and still sex-rough. His touch was light, just grazing Ray’s skin, but his cock was hot and insistent against Ray’s thigh when he’d tugged his jeans down. “So fuckin’ hot like this.” Ray heard the click of a cap from a lube bottle. Of course Frankie had lube. He’d probably planned the whole thing. Or maybe there was just always lube in his pocket. It seemed that way sometimes.

“Just fucking do something already,” Ray panted.

Frank answered that with his first slick finger, groaning softly at the easy hot slide of it, and followed almost immediately with a second, Ray moaning in response.

“Yeah?” Frank asked, turning his fingers just the right way, stretching and curving. Ray gasped. “How ‘bout this?” Frank added a third finger, working a little deeper, and Ray moaned a little louder. He kicked a foot out of his pants, feet sliding further apart on the floor, and his hands tightened in the worn fabric of the couch cushions.

“Frankie,” Ray groaned, desperation making it a plea.

“Yeah, I’m getting there,” Frank assured, tucking his pinky into his other fingers and pressing inside again, shallow but wide.

Ray shuddered. It burned a little, almost too much or maybe not enough. He couldn’t decide. Then Frank’s hand disappeared and all he could think was _fucking finally_ as he heard Frank uncap the lube again. Ray settled his arms into the couch, waiting.

Frank lined up and pushed his way into Ray’s ass, cock stretching where his fingers couldn’t reach. Ray cried out at the sweet ache of it, and Frank’s fingers dug into Ray’s hips to steady them both.

“Fuck, Ray,” Frank groaned. “So fucking hot and tight for me.” He bottomed out for the space of one breath, his balls against Ray’s ass, then he was sliding back out and plunging back in. Ray gasped. It was so good, just riding the edge of too much, too soon. He could feel it like a tightness in his back teeth. But then Frank stopped.

“C’mon,” Ray panted.

“Say it.” Frank taunted, and Ray could hear the smile in his voice, and it was so hot it was wrong, and he was such a smug little asshole sometimes, and it was driving Ray crazy in all of the best ways.

“Fuck. Please, okay?” Ray bit off. He’d tried for pissed, but it came out breathless and rumbly. Frank moved again, and Ray bit his lip, shifting a little so his weight was on his toes, and that was it, there, and his dick was definitely interested in what was going on. “Don’t stop, don’t fucking stop, don’t you dare, Frankie, fuck.”

“You,” Frank grunted, “are too coherent.” With that, Frank changed angles, the shift hitting Ray just right every other thrust and Ray was getting loud. He spared a thought for the roadies who probably could hear him, like Frank had said, and he didn’t even care, so long as Frank wouldn’t stop. Maybe ever.

“More. Like. It.” Frank emphasized each word with a thrust.

“Nnngh,” Ray moaned in answer. God, if he came again so soon, he thought he might die. Still, worse ways to go.

Just when Ray thought the thrusts were going to undo him, Frank slowed down. The impossible little shit. But he didn’t stop, thank fuck. Frank’s right hand snaked over and reached for Ray’s hand and guided it down, encouraging him to stroke his own cock, his hand jerking Ray’s wrist in time with his thrusts.

Frank swivelled his hips, returning his hands to Ray’s waist, speeding up again, hitting that perfect angle again. Ray gradually started jacking himself faster, and Frank kept in time, took Ray’s lead like it was a cue for his favorite riff. Ray opened his mouth, not sure how he was close again already, but he was ready to fucking beg for it if he had to.

“Jesus, Frank, don’t--”

“--Won’t stop,” Frank panted, and it was a promise, “Keep going, just like this, as long as you need.”

He didn’t even know that was what he’d wanted to hear, but Ray thought he might black out from the sensation of it, the overwhelming need twisting up through his veins. He shot all over his hand and the back of the couch with a shout. Frank still kept thrusting even as Ray’s ass clenched, encouraging him, his mouth spewing a litany of filth and praise.

“So fucking good, Ray,” Frank babbled. “Jesusfuck. Shit. So good. _Ray._ ” Frank gave one final thrust and came, hands clenching, and Ray could feel him, pulsing hot and wet. Until he collapsed, anyway, sliding out of Ray with a helpless, satiated noise, leaning on Ray’s back, his fingers twining into curly hair to scratch lazily.

“Mmmm,” Ray mumbled in response, letting his thoughts float randomly for a few delicious moments. He was surprised nobody had walked in. On the other hand, maybe they’d been so loud it was obvious, like an auditory do-not-disturb sign. Heh. Frank had managed to regain enough coordination that he found a towel and gave them both a wipe and put them back into their pants, even with Ray draped over the couch.

“Frankie,” Ray said, blissed-out.

“Yeah,” Frank grinned, looking smug and ridiculously happy.

**************  


  


[8: Pocky and Shrimp Chips - Gerard]  


It could still be early or late. Gerard wasn’t sure, what with the restless post-concert nap he hadn’t meant to take. It was mainly restless because someone was fucking loudly in the green room, someone that wasn’t him and preferably Frankie. Gerard ended up outside signing for fans with Mikey, then Mikey fell asleep on Gerard’s shoulder in the other lounge. Meanwhile, Dewees tried to dare Pedicone into eating things of a questionable nature, Gerard was still kind of sleepy, and he didn’t have the heart to wake Mikey, who was wrapped around a pillow with some massively impressive bedhead. Gerard smiled fondly, then abruptly counseled himself back to frowning. He was grumpy and would not be swayed by Mikeyway, not even an unconscious adorable Mikeyway.

Mikey. Who had been with Gerard the whole time. Mikey, who was not one of the obnoxiously loud fuckers. Specifically, not the one calling out Frankie’s name.

Oh. _Oh_.

Gerard sat up a little straighter at that, and Dewees gave him a knowing look and went back to describing the finer points of authentic Sichuan cuisine without missing a beat. They’d moved way past seafood-flavored snack crisps, which was the last thing Gerard remembered them talking about. Pedicone looked a little green around the gills.

Gerard frowned, considering the look Dewees had given him. He was not that transparent. Or jealous. Or had wanted to watch. Much. Or at least not so much that he’d been a hairsbreadth away from getting up to go find the offensive fuckers. Next time, he might. He’d get up, and he’d bring Mikey too. Because even if Mikey hadn’t been with him, he _knew_ what Mikey sounded like when he was shouting “Frankie.” Where Gerard might scream, Mikey made this sort of ragged cry. It wasn’t vulnerable, exactly, just open. Undone. Gerard wondered what Frank had sounded like in the green room, and tried to remember if he’d ever heard them together before. Then he wondered what Mikey would sound like. What he himself could sound like, Ray’s name on his lips.

No. Fuck that noise. He was being ridiculous. Being on the road was eating his brain. Gerard tucked back in beside Mikey and drifted back off.

*************  


  


[9: The Game is Afoot - Ray]

A few nights later in Birmingham, they’d had another great set. All pumped up from London, Frank jumped on a lot of things. Mikey strutted around a lot. Gerard gave, and gave, and screamed, and the fans screamed back, and he screamed again. That night, after the gig, the guys went out to sign. Gee made as if to follow. Ray put his arm in the doorframe like a toll gate.

“No.”

“No what?” Gerard’s voice grated. He’d fucking shredded it.

“Do you even hear yourself? You. Sit. Drink the tea Mikey made you, and sit. We’ll make your apologies. Don’t. Talk.” It was an old discussion, one that was usually followed by Gerard looking pissy, rolling his eyes, and then insisting on going anyway, communicating pointedly through gestures that he could sign merch without talking. Which he never could do. Moron was gonna give himself nodules. For fuck’s sake.

But not this time. This time, Gerard’s face went kind of funny. He walked back to the counter, picked up his tea, and sat. He looked up at Ray and nodded.

“ _Good_!” Ray couldn’t keep the relief out of his voice. “Back soon.” He picked up a Sharpie, and joined Frank and Mikey, making earnest excuses to the few fans who were bold enough to ask where the fuck Gerard was. Mikey looked at Ray a little oddly, but let it pass. He’d heard the argument as many times as Ray had. He’d made the fucking tea. By and large, the fans were fine with it. One girl’s face fell, and she explained that she had planned to come to this concert with her best friend, who’d just been diagnosed with leukemia, and she was going to get a shirt signed for her. Shit.

“One sec.” Ray took the shirt back to the dressing room. “Hey, Gee?” Gerard looked kind of rumpled and sleepy. There was something weird about his jeans. Whatever. Ray handed him the shirt and pen.

“Sign.”

Gerard was about to look at him and say ‘yessir,’ all snarkily. Ray knew it. In fact, he was kind of okay with it. He’d won the argument, Gerard would give him hell for a little while, things would be normal. And Gerard’s voice would be okay, which was the primary thing. He waited. Gerard opened his mouth, and promptly closed it, rolling his eyes. He signed. Ray patted his head, took the shirt, and brought it back out to the girl, pleased with doing his good deed for the day.

It wasn’t until they’d finished signing and were walking back to the dressing room that Ray realized that the weird thing about Gerard’s jeans was that they had been unbuttoned, and that the grumpy little asshole had been making a point of not saying anything after Ray had told him not to. Ray wasn’t really sure what to do with that, but he was quickly distracted by the food fight Mikey and Frank were having, and how soon he could escape before something sticky got dumped in his hair. He could escape and call Christa, and she would tell him about normal things until he was ready to talk about how crazy his band was. By the time that had happened, he’d be excited to tell her for the nine billionth time that he had the best job in the world, and she’d remind him to blow off some steam.

Ray smiled, and ducked out the door with his cell phone in hand.

******************

  


[10: Never Underestimate the Need for a Good, Strong Wall - Mikey]  


Mikey turned off the water in the shower, and grabbed the nearest clean-looking towel, thinking. It was his shower, because he beat Frankie fair and square in a game of rock-paper-scissors-lizard-Spock. They had to play to decide who got to shower in the bus after the little shit dumped a whole smoothie down Mikey’s back, and, okay, Mikey did retaliate with the classic soda-pop-poured-on-Frank’s-head. Mikey wouldn’t have bothered taking a shower if it hadn't seeped through his pants and boxers and made him all sticky and cold. Plus, it was the principle of the thing. Frank was the shower fetishist and should be denied a warm bus shower just because. Mikey grinned, remembering the look on Frank’s face when he saw the handwritten sign in the venue: “Hot water broke.” Of course, then the little shit had just shrugged and picked up his shower bag. But it was still a victory.

Mikey walked out of the bathroom, trying to tuck the skimpy towel around his waist. That was probably Frankie’s fault, too. Little fucker probably made a point to only have towels that would fit his exhibitionist, teacup-sized ass perfectly, but struck Mikey well above mid-thigh and left a gap that exposed a great deal of hip and leg. Or maybe he’d grabbed a hand towel. Mikey had to hold two corners to keep his bits from showing. It was ridiculous.

Not only ridiculous, but apparently made for groping, if the way Ray’s hands snaked into the gap was anything to take into account. Ray’s very clever, slightly calloused and still soft, strong hands sliding their way under the towel and to Mikey’s dick.

Mikey didn’t squeak, much. “Ray, what?” And when the fuck did he get here, appearing out of the ether or something? Mikey might have been a little distracted by the events of the evening, but still, it made him wonder if Ray was a secret ninja. Of course, it could be that Ray was just frustrated. Gerard had been kind of pissy at him lately. It was pretty grade-school, and honestly, Mikey was just waiting for Gerard to pull Ray's hair and run off to hide behind Frank, pointing fingers. Gerard probably thought he was being clever and subtle. Either way, Mikey hadn't planned on Ray and his fantastically strong arms and big hands taking complete and obscene advantage of him in the bus. Not that Mikey minded, it just hadn’t seemed likely. Gerard and Frank were still outside and Pedicone and Dewees were fuck-knows-where and could walk in at any time and interrupt the shit out of them.

Ray didn’t answer, just steered Mikey further back into the bunk area, stopping almost at the back lounge for a hint of privacy.

All Mikey could really concentrate on was how easily Ray just picked him up and how his legs were more than happy to wrap around Ray's waist. Ray deftly maneuvered Mikey onto the nearest bunk, which was conveniently his own. Convenient in that Ray already knew where the lube was.

 _Yeah,_ Mikey decided. _He’s totally the twelve-year-old here. Possibly also a boy scout, and a ninja._

Ray tugged the towel out of the way and tossed it somewhere beside Mikey. He reached over him, hair brushing Mikey’s chest, and grabbed the lube. He uncapped the bottle and squirted a liberal amount on a hand, snapping the lid closed with a loud click and tossing it back on the bed.

“Where do you get off, Mikeyway, walking around in a towel? Jesus. Wept.” Ray half muttered, half growled as he slid his first slick finger into Mikey.

“Here, hopefully,” Mikey said breathlessly, then managed to squeak when Ray put in a second finger a little too soon, the burn of it making Mikey squirm and wiggle his hips trying to ease the friction, trying to figure out where the fuck to put his legs for leverage.

“Clearly, I’m not doing this right, if you can still be this much of a smartass,” Ray grumbled, splaying his free hand across Mikey’s stomach, holding him down. Mikey tried to buck up experimentally, hoping to encourage Ray’s hand down to his increasingly interested dick, but to no avail. Ray was going to do this how he wanted.

“I learned from Frankie,” Mikey smirked, knowing it would get a response.

“That little cocksucker,” Ray muttered fondly, leaning down for a quick kiss, then moving to the bend where neck meets shoulder. He let his teeth scrape just a little, then lips clamped down to suck, alternating between stretching Mikey open and sucking, then both. Mikey moaned and squirmed, thinking briefly that he’d never been so glad to have to wash berry-mango slime out of his boxers. Not that he wasn’t going to keep giving Frank shit about it, but still, this was totally worth it.

Ray switched to the other side of Mikey’s neck and added a third thick finger.

“C’mon, Ray,” Mikey moaned. “Fuck. C’mon.”

“Mmmm,” Ray hummed into Mikey’s neck. His hand that had been holding Mikey down disappeared to undo his button and fly. Mikey reached to take advantage of both situations, but before he could even get his fingers around the base of Ray’s cock, Ray turned away, growling a little.

Mikey couldn’t decide if he was extremely frustrated and ready to kick something, or if he wanted to grin like a motherfucker knowing that he was in for it.

Before he could choose, Ray’s hands were back, and grabbed Mikey just under his armpits and manhandled him out of the bunk. Mikey obligingly wrapped his arms around Ray’s neck and his legs around Ray’s waist, easy, like they were supposed to be there all along. Mikey could feel Ray pressing against his ass. Ray backed them to the wall between the bunks and the lounge.

“Oh,” Mikey puffed an exhale as his back hit the wall. “This could work.”

“Again with the talking,” Ray gruffed, holding most of Mikey’s waist with one arm, angling so Mikey’s shoulders and head were pushed awkwardly against the wall, bent funny, encouraging Mikey to brace his knees against Ray’s sides. It got him a free hand, finally, Mikey had been waiting, and it was weird, his windpipe all crushed into his neck, but now Ray could line up, nudge against Mikey, c’mon, c’mon, c’mon, _there_. Ray made a noise, and he was just barely inside, and then he could wrap his arms around Mikey and just lift, like Mikey was just another amp or something. Suddenly, Mikey’s head wasn’t pushed against the wall so funny, not at all, and he could feel it, he could feel how it was supposed to go, if Ray would only let him. Mikey breathed, waiting, and used the time to lock his hands across Ray’s shoulders, prepared to hold the fuck on.

Ray lowered his arms a little, lowered _Mikey_ a little, let him slide down onto Ray’s cock from the wall until Mikey was pinned and Ray was inside him to the hilt. Mikey was tempted to say something again, but his world kind of narrowed, hinged on Ray, who was staring at him with a pleased, possessive little smile. Like Mikey was a particularly pretty object that Ray liked being able to just pick up and haul around and... fuck against walls, and, god, it felt good. Although the fucking, that could start anytime, come to think. Something must have shown in Mikey’s face, because Ray grinned wolfishly and started to thrust, pushing Mikey into the wall as Mikey tried to meet him with a swivel of hips, using his hands to pull on Ray’s strong shoulders.

Ray shifted, fucking him deeper, and Mikey was making kind of a high-pitched noise and anybody from the band could hear if they were outside and what if they walked in and he didn’t _care_ , because it was Ray, Ray panting with each thrust, Ray slamming into him until there were only funny noises left.

“Ray, _shit_ , Ray, r-R-ohfuck,” Mikey whimpered, Ray growling in his ear.

“C’mon, Mikey,” Ray panted, voice gravelly against his earlobe, and Mikey came, shooting onto Ray’s stomach.

Ray grinned into Mikey’s neck and shifted his hips again, pounding Mikey against the wall. At this rate he wouldn’t be able to walk tomorrow, but it was the best feeling in the world, slumped against the wall, loosely wrapped around a guitar god who was fucking him like tomorrow wasn’t even an option. Mikey’s dick almost thought about taking notice again, but Ray thrust once more and groaned deeply, his fingers holding Mikey so tightly there’d be bruises. Mikey shivered with the feel of it, milking him, stroking Ray’s back and moaning appreciatively.

“Fucking amazing, Toro,” Mikey said breathlessly.

“Not so bad yourself,” Ray nuzzled Mikey’s neck, leaning in, sweating like he’d been on stage, and then straightened, standing once more with Mikey around him, but in more ways than one this time. Mikey could feel every step, and they really needed to do this more often. Ray just grinned, packed Mikey back over to the bunk, and gingerly slid out. Ray took the discarded towel and cleaned them up a little.

Mikey made a happy contented sound. He felt boneless and weightless. Or was that weightlessly boneless? Something. It was good.

“Yeah, you’re welcome,” Ray chuckled.

“Arms,” Mikey mumbled, curling up under the covers. Maybe he was a little incoherent. It might have had something to do with being so well-fucked.

Ray ruffled Mikey’s hair and smiled and started to climb into his own bunk. Mikey grabbed at him and mumbled again, “arms,” maybe a little peevishly.

“What?” Ray asked. “Oh.” Ray kicked off his shoes and his pants. “You are as much of a cuddleslut as Frank,” he mused, shifting easily into the bunk and kicking at the covers until they were right.

“Arms,” Mikey said agreeably, snuggling in.

Ray just smiled, obviously pleased with himself.

***************  


  


[11: Someone Else’s Laundry - Gerard]  


Gerard climbed out of his bunk and promptly tripped over someone’s trousers. Wait. What? He bent down to investigate the offending material. Not someone’s. _Ray’s._ Why were Ray’s pants on the floor? With dried come on them? He was normally neat, at least compared to the Ways. Not like that was really that difficult, but. Whatever. Asshole.

Right. Coffee. He needed coffee before he faced any more stray laundry. Stray sex-covered laundry. What the hell? Gerard kept his dubiously-stained clothes at the foot of his bunk, or in the bathroom, or draped over a lamp or something, like a normal person.

He staggered to the front lounge and went straight to the coffeepot, barely pausing to pour himself a mug before he took a greedy sip. It had cooled down just enough that he could chug it and only burn his throat a little. He didn’t bother prying his eyes open until he had poured the second mug and could manage to take a more casual sip, surveying the scene.

No braiding this time, thank fuck. But something was slightly left of center, anyway. Ray and Frank were sitting on the couch with Mikey draped across their laps, his head nearest to Frank who was playing with his hair, carding like a cat or some shit. Ray and Mikey held controllers and were playing Halo and talking shit at each other.

“What the fuck? The bad guys are this way, quit lollygagging and get the hell over here,” Ray ordered. His voice sounded aggravated but there was a smile tucked in the corner of his mouth and his eyes kept glancing away from the screen and down at Mikey.

“Dude, I’ll show you lollygagging,” Mikey muttered, tucking his feet more firmly against Ray’s side. “I’m trying to get more grenades, you asshole.”

“Sure, sure,” Ray grumbled. “Just let me go on ahead and waste all this ammo and shit, send me to my doom. I’ll just go ahead and kill all these fuckers by myself, die a martyr.”

“While I’m getting grenades, I’ll see if I can’t find a hammer for you to get yourself up on that cross, too, okay?” Mikey snarked, mashing a lot of buttons as he joined the fight.

“No, no, don’t bother. I’ll mange. By myself. In the dark. Against countless alien hordes.” Ray shook his head and looked at Mikey again.

“You two are such dorks,” Frank declared, grinning like an asshole.

“Learned it from you,” Mikey chirped, fingers clicking.

“That’s for sure,” Ray agreed. For somebody on the brink of death, he seemed more relaxed than usual. Wait. Trousers.

 _Assholes._ Something twisted in Gerard’s stomach, and he was pretty sure it wasn’t from the coffee.

“Oh,” Gerard said at once and tried not to frown disapprovingly, shuffling his feet.

“What?” Ray asked, lifting an eyebrow.

“Nothing,” Gerard answered, hiding his face by refilling his mug for a third time. Something heated crossed Ray’s face, but he quickly looked away and back to the TV.

“Right,” Ray muttered and went back to killing aliens.

Frank watched the exchange with a tilted head, like a golden retriever who was watching something interesting. Like one of them was going to rollover or fetch or some shit any second. Maybe even give him a treat.

“Yeah,” Gerard whispered, retreating to his bunk again. Deja fucking vu.

He heard Mikey grumble something barely intelligible, along the lines of “that’s my head, fucker.” Gerard was ready to scoot in when Frank caught his elbow.

“Frankie, I don’t--” Gerard started, but Frankie kissed the corner of his mouth. Gerard wasn’t even sure what he was going to say. I don’t want to play? I’m not ready to talk about tomorrow’s set list? I don’t want company? Whatever.

“Shut up and let me in,” Frankie said, simply, before Gerard could find an end to his sentence. Like it was easy.

“Okay,” Gerard grumbled, and Frank ruffled his hair, making it even more impressively bed-headed.

Gerard ducked away and pouted because, dude, not cool. “Stopit.”

“Ah, hey,” Frankie said apologetically, and stole another kiss, grinning at Gerard like he thought something adorable was going on, but his face went contemplative as Gerard chugged the last of his coffee.

“What, Frankie?” Gerard asked, bravely or stupidly.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Frank bit his lip, looking quietly insightful, and that was way worse than a patronizing ‘you’re adorable’ look, if you asked Gerard. Not that anyone ever did. No, Gerard did not want to talk about how both Frank and his little brother got to have sex with Ray before Gerard did, somehow. Or how said little brother had probably fucked Ray before and was discreet enough not to say anything, the smug, content, well-fucked bastard. Mikey was just like that; Gerard couldn’t blame him. Hell, he liked how Mikey was like that. And everybody knew _Frank_ was like that. That was just... Frank. Or how he couldn’t explain exactly why he was jealous precisely, or even if it _was_ jealousy, because it was kind of irrational overall. Kind of stupid, maybe. But it didn’t feel stupid. It felt like something he wanted. Not something really freaky or startling, just a sort of awareness. Like the distant itch of new skin growing. And it was Ray who was making him itchy. And he just wanted to bang another of his bandmates, if in a slightly weirder way than usual, so he couldn’t say any of this shit out loud, because Frank would laugh at him like the comfortable-with-banging-everybody asshole he was. Of course, Frank would then help him construct a game plan, after he was done laughing. But dammit. Gerard had... well, something, if not a plan, exactly. And he didn’t have to talk about it.

He shook his head and stood there as Frank studied him, trying to keep his face in check, but Frank probably saw right through him anyway. He was annoyingly good at that.

“Wanna cuddle? I promise not to braid your hair,” Frankie held up three fingers in the Boy Scout salute.

“Cuddleslut,” Gerard muttered, fighting a smile and letting Frankie drag them into Gerard’s bunk.

“You gotta problem with that?” Frank grinned, the fucker.

“Nope,” Gerard chuckled, strangely comforted by the way Frank tackled him, warm and heavy and shoving like he always did.

********************************  


  


[12: If You Try Sometimes, You Get What You Need - Ray]

The next morning, Gerard was hogging the coffeepot, as usual. Ray staggered over to the sink to wash his dirty mug from yesterday (or, more likely, make sure there weren’t any cigarette butts in it and then pour coffee in it regardless), but it wasn’t there. Which meant someone took it. But Gerard was drinking from the unicorn mug. Ray looked at him. Ray looked at the coffeepot. Ray frowned.

“Want some coffee?”

Ray scowled. This would usually be the part where Gerard poured himself the last cup and told Ray he should make some. Ray waited, bleary-eyed.

Gerard opened the cupboard, took down Ray’s mug, filled it with coffee, and handed it to him.

Ray looked at it suspiciously. It was _clean_. And full of coffee. Which he didn’t have to make, or pour, or fight Gerard to the death for. And clean. Someone had washed it. Ray made a surprised noise, took the mug with a nod, and went back to his bunk.

Later, during sound check, Ray was tuning. Or, at least, he was trying to until Frank came up.

“So,” Frank asked, not quite crowding Ray, but certainly being in Ray’s space enough that Frank’s striped sleeve kept brushing his arm and he could smell Frank’s toffee soap, tickling his nose.

“What’s up?” Ray asked, keeping his fingers busy, tweaking the tuning on his guitar just a little and then a little more. He noticed that there was a smear of reddish stain on the shoulder of Frank’s shirt, almost like Gerard had marked his territory.

“Are you guys, like, playing gay chicken, or something?” Frankie asked, eyes focusing on Ray, oddly intent, assessing, despite his jovial tone. “Because I should tell you, Dewees always wins at gay chicken, even if he’s not playing, and it usually involves a bathtub and candy or condiments or some shit. And I totally wouldn’t lay odds against him when we’re in the land of deep-fried Mars bars. There’s no telling what he’d do.”

Ray was pretty sure they weren’t talking about Dewees at all. In fact, Ray figured this was as close as Frank ever got to giving anyone a Talk. Not that Ray had any idea why this would be occurring. If anyone should be getting a talking-to, it was Gerard, being all weird and spindly and ...weird. Gerard, who was looking at them with a hooded expression from across the stage, his arm draped over Mikey’s shoulders. Gerard, who was being weird as fuck. The last thing Ray needed was Frank joining the weird-as-fuck party. He frowned, strumming peevishly.

“Frank, I am aware of the dangers of playing gay chicken on tour,” Ray answered carefully. If his B string would just stay in tune. If Frank would stop being weird about Gerard being weird. Whatever.

Frank nodded, satisfied, finding whatever it was he was looking for in Ray’s face. “Cool,” he said wandering back over to his own setup to finish soundcheck.

Then Gerard was in his space all of a sudden, appearing out of nowhere holding a bottle of water.

“Shit,” Ray visibly jerked, because fucking seriously. Could Gerard have made some fucking noise?

“You looked thirsty,” Gerard said simply, placing the bottle into Ray’s hand and wandering back off, sparing a glance over his shoulder, almost nervously. If Ray didn’t know better, he would have thought that was some sort of joke, and the water bottle was full of gin or witch hazel or something. But no. Ice cold, seal intact, same label as all the other bottles.

Seriously. What. The. Fuck.

“Thanks,” Ray answered anyway, nearly whispered, and he could hear his own confusion.

He was rewarded with the glimmer of a smile. Fuckin’ seriously. What?

But it wasn't until the night after the Dublin show, when the shuttle arrived at the hotel, that Ray said something. Just a little experiment. And, okay, maybe he was tired and maybe he should have stopped at three beers for the set, but you don’t say no to Guinness in Dublin, and maybe if he did this wrong it could go really badly. But fuck that shit. If Gee was gonna be weird and prickly, Ray could be weird right back. Frank and Mikey had already started in to the rooms.

"Hey, hand me my bag, willya?" Gerard made grabby-hands at something on Ray's left.

"Please." Ray prompted, trying to make it sound offhanded.

"Um." Gerard swallowed, and something red that wasn't hair dye or stray marker or paint flashed across his face. Ah. There it was. Then it was gone, replaced by a nervous laugh.

"O dearest of Rays, most helpful of bandmates, hear my plea?" And then it flashed across his face again, quickly wiped away by amicable eyebrows and Gerard's laughable attempt at a 'patiently waiting' expression. "Seriously, it's just that one. There."

Ray bit his lip deliberately. Was he imagining things? He could always blame it on something else. The beer, Frank, the tour, anything.

"Oh, that one," Ray clarified needlessly, and sat back against the seat, ostensibly getting out of Gerard's way, but in that asshole-on-an-airplane way that made someone, if anything, more of an obstacle. "Sorry. You go ahead." Gerard tugged his hair, sighed, and crouched over the seat, reaching over Ray's lap, hand out for his stupid duffel. His hand was shaking. Ray leaned slightly to the left and carefully did not touch Gerard. He didn't put a hand on that ass in those ridiculously tight jeans, he did not draw a finger over those weird white-seamed briefs Gerard had been wearing lately, which Ray could see because Gerard’s tiny shirt was drawing up over his waist, nor he did not grab Gerard and press him down into his lap. Some kind of medal was obviously in order. No, he just leaned over and said into a red-stained ear, "Gerard. What. Are you doing?"

Gerard turned his head with a pissy, incredulous kind of look, his jaw dropping low enough that Ray could see his tongue glisten. Jesus. Make that two medals. "I don't mean the bag."

Gerard closed his mouth. And opened it again. "Nothing--It's just, Frank, being, like, in _heat_ with his stupid soap, and you're twelve, and Mikey, I just wondered, but, and then I couldn't--"

"Okaystop." Ray rubbed at his left eye, adjusting his contact, thinking for a second. Gerard closed his mouth and put down his arm. He was just leaning halfway over Ray's lap. Just... waiting. There was something calm in his expression, calm like Gerard hadn’t been in days, like he’d been waiting to spout that jumble of words and he was pleased he’d said his incomprehensible piece, or something. Or maybe he was just relieved that Ray wasn’t going to make him explain that shit. Ray picked up the bag and his own backpack and jerked his head at the door. Gerard slid off the seat and climbed down from the van awkwardly, waiting with his hands shoved in his pockets until Ray walked past him into the hotel. Ray didn't look back, didn't check in with Mikey and Frank, didn't tell Gee to follow. He just shouldered the bags and opened the door with a keycard and waited while Gerard walked in, gnawing on a cuticle.

Ray put down the stuff and took off his jacket. Gerard opened his mouth again. Ray closed the space between them in two steps and put his thumb over Gerard's lips, index finger curling beneath his chin. He made this funny little intake of breath, not quite a gasp, and his tongue just barely touched Ray's thumb. Ray waited. Gerard swallowed, and didn't move, exactly. He just gravitated, focused, practically vibrated out of his skin while trying to stay still. It might have been hilarious, or cruel, or something, watching Gerard's world stop because he couldn't put something in his mouth. It was utterly mesmerizing. Ray should do this more often. He should do this all the _time_. He couldn't help pulling his thumb down just a little, watching Gerard's mouth open just a tiny bit more, before swiping his thumb across Gerard's lips and kissing him once. Carefully, and thoroughly, and firmly, before taking a deep breath and pulling away, in spite of the look on Gerard’s face. Ray was going to let him think about it. They hadn’t ever gone much past the usual sort of drunken van-fumbling, and Gerard was being... Gerard, and Ray was at least going to give him an out.

"I'm going to brush my teeth now. When I come back, you'll be naked. Unless... Unless you wanted to go to sleep -- that's cool, too." Ray shrugged as easily as he could, and then tried not to smile as he saw Gee in the corner of his eye, shaking his head vehemently. Ray closed the bathroom door and let himself grin. He brushed his teeth. He washed his face. He put a packet of lube in his pocket to warm up, and opened the bathroom door.

"Um. Wow." Gerard was naked, alright. And kneeling. And hard. He looked up at the sound of the door opening, bit his lip, and looked back down, a strand of red falling over one eye. Ray walked over, pulling off his shirt, and let his fingers tangle gently in Gerard’s hair. Gee rubbed his jaw, catlike, against Ray's leg, and Ray gave it a minute, feeling warm and fuzzy and just a little nervous. Ray took a breath, tightened his fingers and pulled _up_ , slowly and firmly. Gerard sucked in a breath of air, and his arms flailed a little as he tried to stand, one leg at a time, without falling over, without making a sound. Ray moved deliberately, stepping toward the bed, guiding Gerard by a fistful of hair. There was an awkward moment when Gerard bent to get facedown on the bed, and Ray twisted his fingers. Gerard gave a yelp, then panted, little desperate hiccup-breaths, and Ray kind of wanted to do it again.

Instead, he stepped behind the still-slightly-crouching man, reluctantly loosening his fingers from the tangled red mop. Gerard wavered, and Ray pulled him back against his chest. Ray didn’t press against him, didn’t pull him tight, just smoothed Gerard’s arms down to his sides and ducked his head to breathe against his ear. He didn’t say anything, yet. Just watched Gerard bite his lip and try not to move, try not to clench his fingers at his sides, try not to press back against Ray’s jeans, try not to gasp or plead or demand. Ray breathed it in. The tension rose off of Gerard’s skin like a current.

Ray looked to make sure Gerard was stable in his stance, and stepped backward.

Gerard whimpered. Actually _whimpered_. Not like a kid who’d lost a toy, but like… like a puppy who didn’t know what he’d done wrong, and fuck, Ray was going to come in his pants at this rate.

He toed off his shoes, unbuckled his belt, unzipped. Gerard’s shoulders twitched in front of him at the sound, but he didn’t turn. He was being so good. So conscientious and focused and fucking needy and trying so, so hard. Ray peeled off his jeans and boxers, remembering the lube, and dropped the clothes on the floor. He wrapped a hand around the base of his cock and squeezed, breathing out slowly, just to ease the ache. He stepped forward again, and a smile quirked his lips as Gee’s shoulders relaxed. Ray ducked his head again, and licked a hot swipe from Gerard's shoulder up to his ear, and whispered, "Down. Faceup."

Gerard clambered and rolled, and managed to land flat on his back, tense as hell.

“Hands behind your head. Unless you need help.” _Unless you need me to tie your ass up. I will if you want me to. But I bet you’ll do what I tell you._ Honestly, it’d been a few days of ‘I bet you’ll do what I tell you,’ and they were both ready to see where the cards would fall. Gerard tucked his hands behind his head.

Ray walked to the foot of the bed, trying not to stare. Gerard was pale, streaked here and there with sharpie and paint, stage sweat gone cold and hot again, little red marks under his knees where he’d worn those funny little garters for the show, blurred slightly by where he’d knelt on the coarse hotel carpet. His arms were tight, hands clenching each other behind his head, pulse beating in his throat, a dusting of dark hair leading a trail between his legs, cock purpling and pointing up to his navel. Technically, nothing Ray hadn’t seen before. Lots of times, really.

But tonight, Gerard was specifically his. All his. Waiting. Straining to do everything perfectly. Ray wasn’t going to fuck it up. He swished the packet of lube experimentally in his fist, and moved to kneel on the bed between Gerard’s legs. Gee obligingly spread his legs a little more. Bendy little fucker; he was almost as bad as Frank. Ray tore the tab on the packet and slicked up his hands. Gerard was looking at Ray and biting his lower lip so far into his mouth it looked like it’d disappeared. Ray looked back, smiled, and wrapped the warm, slippery fingers of his left hand around Gerard’s balls, enjoying the look on Gee’s face as his mouth opened again, lip reappearing as he remembered to breathe.

Ray glanced down, cupping loose skin in his hand and rubbing his thumb over the base of Gerard’s cock, and let himself focus on his fingers, drawing the index finger of his right hand slowly down the underside from tip to root. He did it again, and again, and again. Sometimes with other fingers, or more lube, to the left or right, watching the little twitches and jerks and gasps he elicited.

But Gerard never moved his hands from underneath his head, and he never spoke a word. Ray smiled. “Good,” he murmured, and Gerard flushed pink with pleasure all the way down his chest. Ray wrapped his whole hand around Gee’s length, then, squeezing firmly, and grinned at the desperate groan that came out of Gerard’s mouth. Ray knuckled gently under his balls, grazing his sweet spot from the outside, and began to stroke. Thumb curling under the head on the downstroke, palm curving over the head on the upstroke, the rhythm soothingly like strumming his guitar. His left hand manipulated, pressed, found pleasing patterns, and his right hand provided the momentum, the force. And Gerard... Gerard was slowly tightening, winding. Being tuned. His thighs were tight, his toes were curling. He let out a choked, surprised sound.

“Yeah,” Ray said, letting his fingers slip down to Gerard’s ass and back up, still stroking in a maddening rhythm, watching.

“Ray...” Gerard’s eyebrows drew together.

“Say ‘please,’” Ray said calmly, pressing a slick, hot finger to Gerard’s asshole again, waiting, jerking his cock quick and shallow.

“Ohfuckplease,” Gerard ground out, and Ray obligingly slid in his finger, crooked it, tightened his fist around Gerard’s dick.

“Now,” Ray breathed, and it couldn’t have been more than a minute or five, all told, but Gerard was coming all over his hand, milking Ray’s finger, clutching the back of his own head, pulling his own hair to keep from moving his hands.

Ray had probably seen something hotter in his life, but he couldn’t think what it’d be. Gerard coming apart, overwhelmed, pulling himself apart rather than do something Ray didn’t want, completely at Ray’s mercy and completely out of his head with pleasure. Fuck. He slipped his finger out slowly, and made a pleased noise deep in his throat. Gerard was still panting, and trembling a little, and Ray’s hands were covered in come. Well, he’d done something right, at least. He lifted a thumb to his lip, almost absentmindedly, wondering what Gerard tasted like. Less coffee-bitter than he’d have thought. Ray looked down. Gerard’s eyes were open again. Ray extended his right hand, offering. Gerard looked questioningly, moving his hands to prop himself up a little. Ray nodded, and he leaned forward to suck Ray’s index finger into his mouth, watching Ray, licking him clean digit by digit.

“Shitfuck,” Ray muttered softly, “Gerard, your _mouth_...” He broke off to slide his left hand back between Gerard’s legs, circling the rim of his hole with a wet, sticky fingertip. Gerard moaned around Ray’s pinky, and Ray felt his cock twitch in sympathy. He drew his pinky back across Gerard’s lips, and replaced it with his index and middle fingers, just to watch Gerard’s mouth, just to watch him suck the fingers down. It was utterly obscene the way Gerard was looking through his lashes at Ray, sucking contentedly, and it wasn’t conscious, the way Ray pushed his fingers inside Gerard’s ass. It was just... he had to.

He didn’t mean to do it so suddenly, and the look on Gerard’s face went abruptly from contented to shocked to pained, and he whimpered around the fingers in his mouth, and Ray was just about to apologize when he realized Gerard was sucking harder, and the look of pain had changed into something else, something fiery and needy, and fucking hell. Ray had his come-covered fingers inside his best friend and the frontman of his band, and it was maybe weird, but it had been weird for days, and Ray couldn’t stop, it wouldn’t be right. And even if it were, Gerard started using his arms for more leverage, pushing back against the fingers in his ass, moaning loudly now that he was muffled.

 _Muzzled_ , provided Ray’s brain helpfully, _gagged. I am muting my own fucking vocalist._ And everybody wanted to shut Gerard up sometime, but Ray hadn’t really considered doing it this way before, and somehow in those moments Ray went from couldn’t stop to wouldn’t stop.

He slid his hand from Gerard’s mouth, chuckling at the faint disappointed noise he made, and wrapped it in his hair again, wanting to hear every sound. It was too good not to, and Gerard was happy to comply, whimpering and moaning, a spark in his eyes. His eyelids fluttered closed, then open again, and he was _performing_ for Ray, challenging and beautiful and so turned on it hurt. Ray slid his fingers out and then back in as he added a third, working up into the tight satin heat of Gerard’s ass. Gee was hard again, and Ray was ready, so fucking ready. But he could wait. He could wait. Gerard would ask for it, wouldn’t he? He had to. And Ray could wait for it.

He curved his fingers, twisting them a little harshly on purpose, and Gerard made a keening noise, looking back at Ray with eyes like saucers. Ray quirked his lips, trying to radiate patience and intensity, and relaxed, just letting his fingers pulse. Gerard gasped, licking his lips, and started breathing in time to Ray’s pulses, panting, until he closed his eyes. Little notes of desperation touched his breaths, and Destroya had nothing on this. His head tilted back in Ray’s grasp; his throat bobbed as he swallowed. Maybe patience was worth it.

Ray leaned forward and licked Gerard’s neck, nipping at the flesh above his adam’s apple. He lingered there, then, mouthing the skin until he felt the voice underneath cry out, then heard it. He slid his fingers almost all the way out, slowly, carefully. The sound Gerard made was broken, bereft. Ray drew in a little closer, touching his jaw to red-stained skin, and cradled Gee’s head in his hand, watching. His hands were clenched into fists behind him on the bed, and his shoulders trembled. Whether it was with the effort of holding himself up, or with tension or lust or impatience, it didn’t matter, it was gorgeous.

“Ray,” Gerard whispered. “Ray, please.”

Ray twitched his fingers a little, and listened to the hitch in Gerard’s breathing. “Please what?”

“Anything. Everything. Whatever you’ll give me. Just... Please.”

 _Yes_ , Ray thought, and kissed Gerard’s ear. “Yes,” he repeated out loud, and eased his fingers the rest of the way out. “Over.” He let go of Gerard’s hair, touched his nape softly, and moved to let him turn, finding the lube in the process.

He backed to the edge of the bed, barely pausing to slick up. Gerard was clutching one of the several dozen pillows the hotel apparently thought they’d need, chewing on a fingernail.

“Arms down to your sides,” Ray said softly, suddenly a little hoarse. Gerard moved, twitching a shoulder, and Ray moved closer behind him, running a hand up his thigh. Soon he had both hands on those hips, and he could just grip them, and pull them how he wanted, and then there was Gerard, ass up to meet him, with his face on the mattress like a broken doll, porcelain and debauchery. Ray shifted against Gerard’s ass, and pressed, leaning forward to take Gerard’s wrists in a firm grip in each hand.

Then he _pulled_ , and Gerard was tight like a bowstring, the force of Ray’s grip lifting his torso, forcing him to arch his back. Gerard gasped, but leaned into it, pliant, so Ray could slide into his ass, tight and round and perfect. That wasn’t all that was perfect, either. Ray looked at the muscles in his back, the valley of his spine, the curve of his neck, all of Gerard his, in his hands, on his cock, waiting for him. He slid out slowly, just once, using those sinewy wrists like handles; then nothing was slow anymore, and his hips slammed against Gerard’s ass. Gerard lifted his head a little on each stroke, making loud, desperate, gorgeous noises.

“So good, so good for me,” Ray panted, and pounded into Gerard again and again, and he was merciless, and Gerard was soft and willing and practically wailing, and he was going to leave bruises, and he’d waited too long, it was too much, and he pulled Gerard tight and came, digging in his fingernails. He pushed in deeply, groaning, vision greying at the edges. He caught his breath, let down Gerard’s wrists, and thrust again. Gerard put his arms under his head and gasped, twitching, milking Ray of every last drop, whimpering. Ray kept going. He could do this for a while.

“C’mon, Gee.” He angled down for a few strokes, holding onto Gerard’s hips. He got some higher-pitched cries in response, but it wasn’t enough. Gerard’s shoulders were drawn up to his ears, muscles bunching under the skin, and he was tense enough to go at any minute if Ray could just give him what he needed.

“More?” Bright red hair bobbed up and down on the pillow with an accompanying gasp, and Ray smiled, wrapping fingers around Gerard’s length, sticky from last time and leaking again. “Now,” Ray cautioned, loosely fisting Gerard’s cock with each stroke, “I want to hear you, want to hear you come for me again.” Four more strokes, and Gerard tilted back his head, crying out in the general direction of Ray and the ceiling, shuddered, and collapsed in a glorious little heap.

Ray slid out, kissed Gerard’s back. “Just a sec,” he murmured, going to clean up. He came back, flicking off the bathroom light, and Gerard hadn’t moved. Ray gathered up his little heap of vocalist, kissing softly behind his ear, and resisted the urge to ask if he was alright. Or if Ray had done things right. If everything they’d just done was okay. If Gerard needed anything. No. Ray was pretty sure they were cool. Better than cool. Better than before. It felt better, anyway. He wasn’t going to worry about it. Not right now. He just let Gerard hold on to his arm, too tightly, and they slept.  


*************** 

  


[13: Sometimes, You Just Get What You Want - Gerard]

Gerard rolled out of bed and headed toward the bathroom, his awareness limited to finding the light switch and making sure the toilet seat was up. He pissed what felt like gallons, propping himself against the wall with a clumsy hand. He shook his dick, scratched his balls, turned, flipped the switch and went back to bed. The covers were still warm. They smelled nice. He flopped over, preparing to lose consciousness. Someone grunted.

It was Ray. Next to him. In bed.

Ray was naked.

That in itself didn’t necessarily mean anything, but something in the back of Gerard’s head was insisting that it did. And that Gerard was sore in weirder ways than usual. Wait. What?

“Holy shit.” Gerard groaned. Then he groaned again, because one of Ray’s forearms flopped heavily onto his back and pulled him closer.

“Ray.” Gerard said it cautiously. It was possible he was wrong. It was dark. It was way before noon. He hadn’t had any coffee.

“Gee.” Ray confirmed sleepily.

“We have sex?” Mikey or Frank could have switched rooms on him, or stolen Ray’s boxers. Wouldn’t be the first time.

“Yes?”

“Kinky sex?” Gerard could have dreamed it. Or fallen off the wagon. Or something.

“Very yes?” Ray shifted, pulling Gerard against his chest.

“Oh.” Gerard tried to sound normal, as the memories rushed into his sleepy brain in what seemed like X-rated technicolor surround-sound slow-motion.

“...that okay?” Ray pulled back a little, leaning so he could look at Gerard’s face.

“Maybe,” Gerard mused fuzzily, trying to get a handle on the wave of arousal that washed through him in the wake of his brain’s super-helpful “Sex Flashback” feature.

“Maybe,” Ray repeated. His eyebrows furrowed. “Maybe.” He was starting to sound pissed. It could be, Gerard’s brain was now helpfully telling him, that someone might consider it rude if you go weird on them for weeks because you’re not fucking, and then say ‘maybe,’ when you finally have a lot of really amazing sex.

“Depends,” Gerard said, trying to sound light and teasing instead of cranky, and kicked some covers out of the way so he could grind his ass against Ray’s morning wood.

“Depends on what, exactly?” Gerard wasn’t sure, but he thought maybe Ray sounded marginally less pissed.

“If we can do it again.”

 

************  


  


[14: Best Laid Plans - Frank]  


The afternoon was situation normal when the thought crossed his brain and made Frank jerk out of the sleepy post-nap haze he’d been in. The thought was so shocking to him that he almost fell out of his bunk.

“Well, shit,” he said, awed and a little excited.

It was criminal, really, when Frank realized it. Fucking criminal. Inexcusable, even. How had it never come up? Did playing video games really take up that much spare time? It couldn’t, could it? Or was touring that exhausting? Maybe they were just too busy fucking each other in pairs, or maybe it was the size of the goddamn bunks, because Frank could not believe that until this point it had not occurred to him that the four of them had not been together all at once.

 _Seriously_. How could he have not made this happen before now? It would be fantastic. It would be epic. Frank was going to get INCREDIBLY laid.

“Seriously,” Frank whispered to himself, determined.

“Seriously what?” Gerard asked sticking his head past the curtain and into Frank’s bunk. Frank grabbed the ragged collar of Gerard’s t-shirt and pulled him in for a kiss.

“Fucking seriously,” Frank said, smirking like a motherfucker.

Gerard kissed him again and then ruffled Frank’s hair, “Ah, you’ve got a scheme.” Gerard smiled.

“Yep,” Frank allowed a little bit of smug to sneak in, “Going to be some seriously epic shit, Gee.”

“Well, just leave Mikey’s flat iron alone,” Gerard warned.

“I still say that that wasn’t my fault,” Frank objected, pouting.

“Yeah, Dewees was entirely to blame,” Gerard ruffled Frank’s hair, again.

“Who knew that would be so sticky? It was for science!” Frank insisted, reaching to grab at Gerard who disappeared back behind the curtain.

Right. Epic shit to plan. So, naturally, he called Jamia. Because wives understand these things, and he wanted to check on the twins. He knew she’d be a great sounding board. After all the joyfully obligatory news about the girls, and then, after she stopped cackling, anyway.

“C’mon, Jamia, this is serious,” Frank insisted and giggled a little himself. “What exactly’s so funny?”

“It’s just that we were all pretty sure there had already _been_ an orgy,” Jamia said, fondly. “And this means that I win the pool for this leg of the tour.” She sounded smug. What?

“Who’s we? There’s a pool!?” Frank asked, trying to decide if he was shocked or offended or both or not at all. “Wait. How much did you win?”

“We, being us girls, mainly Lyn Z and Alicia. Couple other interested parties. And probably all the fangirls,” he could hear her smile. “And as for us girls, well. Who said anything involved money?”

“Dude! You’ve already had your own orgy?! And you won sexual favors! I can’t wait to brag! How did it go? Your orgy, I mean?” Frank asked. Maybe he could steal ideas.

“Frank, stop being a dirty old man,” Jamia scolded, sounding fond.

“Hey, are you knocking my sweaters? Don’t knock the grandpa sweaters. They’re hot,” Frank defended.

“Yes, dear,” she rolled her eyes. He could hear it.

“I love you,” he said, because he could.

“I love you too. Now go plan your orgy,” Jamia encouraged.

“You’re just getting me off the phone so you can go have kinky orgies of your own,” Frank tried for a petulant tone, but giggled.

“I am not! Anyway, Alicia had to go visit her cousin. Lyns is coming over, but, anyway. Go plan. And by ‘plan,’ I mean ‘just go tell them that you want an orgy.’” Jamia corrected herself.

“Wait, seriously?” Frank asked. Dude, maybe he was overthinking things. Maybe simplicity was the best approach.

“Yes, seriously. Dork. How difficult is it to get a guy to have sex with you?” She was rolling her eyes again. “If for some reason, bending over doesn’t do the trick, you ask, and he says yes. It’s the same thing with three guys. You’ll be fine,” she reassured. “Bye, babe,” she said, and ended the call.

“Huh,” he muttered and tossed his phone aside. Yeah, that would probably totally work.

He crawled out of his bunk and made his way out to the front lounge where Mikey, Gerard and Ray were all wedged in on the couch, drinking coffee, playing Super Smash Brothers. Mikey hit pause when he noticed the look on Frank’s face. Good. Frank needed attention for this announcement.

“So,” Frank started, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms over his chest. Smugly. “Our wives.”

“Mmm?” said Mikey.

“Are all having sex. All at once.” He didn’t even wait for that to sink in before giving the punchline. “We should do that, too.” Frank made his declaration and, if anything, smiled wider.

“Huh,” Mikey said in response, the corner of his mouth upturning in agreement. Frank was pretty sure Alicia had been giving him updates. Hell, for all Frank knew, Mikey was in the betting pool. Gerard did some sort of spastic arm movement as if trying to catch the words he wanted to say out of thin air, like he wanted clarification in his ear monitors: more bass and less what-the-fuck-ery. Like Frank couldn’t possibly be trying to make awesome happen. A hot epic mess of awesome.

Ray merely lifted an eyebrow, but there was something in his eyes. Frank was sure that was a yes.

“Guys, seriously!” Frank grinned. And yeah, that was his whole argument. What could he possibly elaborate on?

“Well, yeah,” Ray said, like Frank was suggesting the most reasonable thing in the world, which he _totally_ was.

Gerard made a small squeak at that and stopped flailing and said, “I-it isn’t an unreasonable request.” There was a bit of a flush to his cheeks. Frank was pretty sure that he’d finally gotten laid with Ray. Thank fuck. Maybe he would get to watch this time.

Frank knew he had them at ‘orgy’. Not that he’d _said_ the word ‘orgy’ yet, but he’d totally had them at it. As he should. It was a great plan. ‘Orgy’ was a great word. He should say it now.

“Oorrrrgggyyy!” Frank crowed victoriously. Gerard winced. Ray ruffled Frank’s hair. Mikey laughed until Gee joined in. Shit was gonna be EPIC.

It would be so serious and epic that of course, they wouldn’t have a hotel night for two more days. First the show in Cardiff, then the next night in Newcastle got in the way and then, finally, they were in London. But even so, there were the NME Awards, and then there was the video shoot, and finally, before they had to get on yet another goddamn plane, Frank got them to switch hotels.

Thank fuck they were in London, though, because London had Hotel Babylon, the Penthouse suite to be exact. Frank might have called in a few favors to make that shit happen -- he wasn’t as smooth as Mikey, but he could still pull some strings -- and it was going to be totally worth it. But really, his flimsy excuse for all four of them to share this sprawling hotel suite was to ‘review’ the video shoot. Because these things required discussion. And an enormous bed. And many other surfaces to explore. And the staff was fucking discreet if you tipped, and mentioned that you’d actually prefer they wait to call the paparazzi until tomorrow. As far as Frank was concerned, there was no need for anyone outside of the apparent betting pool and the four of them to know about it. Well, and Pedicone and Dewees had probably already figured it out. None of them were exactly good at being quiet, literally or figuratively.

“...of us here at Hotel Babylon wish you a pleasant and relaxing stay,” the manager was saying with a quiet smile, and seeing himself out. Nice guy. Cute freckles. The door clicked softly closed, leaving Gerard, Frank, Mikey and Ray just standing in a marble entryway.

“Did you seriously book us a penthouse suite in downtown London so we could have an orgy?” Gerard asked, leaning to peek out the enormous window with a view of the Thames.

“Well yeah,” Frank said. “They had the biggest bed I could find.” Gerard looked suitably impressed.

“Is that a basket full of lube?” Ray asked.

“I swear I didn’t ask for that,” Frank admitted.

“It’s sorta customary,” Mikey said, like he was some sort of connoisseur where hotel-based orgies were concerned. Actually, Frank wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case. He should really get Mikey to spill about that. But first things first. Whatever first things were, anyway. Now that he’d actually gotten them all here, he wasn’t quite sure where to start. He wondered if he should just take off his pants and announce that the orgy was on. Was there some kind of orgy etiquette he should have looked up? Frank fiddled with his belt. Mikey caught his eye and smirked knowingly, his eyes darkening. But he did absolutely nothing to help.

Frank cleared his throat nervously, and looked at the other three. “So. Wanna get naked?” He had smoother lines, maybe, but none more honest.

“You first,” said Mikey.

“It was your idea, Frankie,” Gerard agreed, pulling him close from behind and removing his shirt, wrapping his hands easily around the shorter man’s waist. Frank tried not to look delighted, and failed. Spectacularly. He grinned so hard his face hurt.

 _Clothing removed? Check. Orgy is ON._ Frank thought, and was just about to say as much, when Ray sidled up to him.

“Man’s got a point,” Ray agreed, tilting Frank’s chin up for a kiss. Gerard was busy nibbling a few of his favorite tattoos.

Mikey leaned against the wall, taking it all in. Ray broke off the kiss to look at Mikey and smile, a thousand watts and wicked. He stepped to one side, looking pointedly at the space now available, and cocked his head. Mikey gave one of his quiet grins in return, and walked forward a few steps. Ray nodded, and resumed making out with Frank while Mikey licked across Frank’s collarbone. Gerard managed to undo Frank’s belt from behind, copping a feel on Mikey in the process, and just like that, Frank became the noisy, happy, wiggly target of six hands and three mouths.

“Guys,” Frank panted. “Guys?” Nobody seemed to notice. Frank took the opportunity to realize he was no longer wearing pants. Ray was biting his earlobe, Mikey’s mouth had found a nipple, and Gerard was grinding up against him.

“Guysguys, guys, guysguys...” Frank’s voice found registers he hadn’t known he could reach.

“Mmm-hmm?” Ray rumbled into his ear, and whoa, not helping.

“Can we get somewhere flat?” he squeaked.

“Nope,” Gerard said placidly.

“Busy,” Mikey added, and oh, god, when had he gotten on his knees. Because his mouth was right _there_ , and hey, there was Ray’s mouth again, right up here, and Gerard’s fingers were digging into Frank’s hips.

“Guys. Kneesfeet,” Frank explained eloquently, just before Mikey robbed him of the power of speech by sucking down his cock so slowly it made his balls ache.

“There are three of us,” Gerard began.

“We’ll keep you upright,” Ray finished, smirking, and put his hands on Frank’s shoulders. Mikey’s hands joined Gerard’s on Frank’s hips, fingers interlacing. He was steady. He was held up between Gerard’s cock and Mikey’s mouth and Ray’s tongue and it took him a while to remember he had hands, too. He reached back and palmed Gerard through his jeans, slid his left hand up to cup Ray’s jaw.

Gerard moaned in his ear, and all the fingers on his hips tightened. Ray kissed Frank one more time, then started biting his neck. Gee caught on, and started tracing Frank’s scorpion with his tongue, and a tiny part of Frank’s brain was protesting that there was something very unfair going on, and the rest of him was just trying to remember how to breathe and it was good, and he was _thisclose_ and--

\--and Mikey stopped, squeezed his hands on Frank’s hips, and Gerard stopped, and then Ray stopped.

“...thehell,” Frank gasped.

“Not yet.” Mikey stood, removing his shirt.

“Assholes,” Frank declared, uncomprehending, trying to keep himself from fucking empty air where Mikey’s mouth had been.

“Yeah, you love it.” Ray shrugged, undoing Mikey’s belt. Gerard kissed Frank’s neck once more and let go, walking away towards the bed and occasionally shedding an item of clothing. Not like a striptease, just like... Gerard, and for some reason, that was even hotter. Mikey whistled and picked up the basket of lube, and Ray nudged Frankie helpfully in the same direction. As if he needed encouragement. He ran towards the oversized bed and tackled Gerard onto it.

“Crazy motherfucker,” Gerard laughed. “Ray, c’mere, help me with this.” Frank rolled on top of him, giggling.

“I’m a ‘this,’ now? Are you objectifying me? Mikey, help! I’m being oppressed!”

“Repressed. And now we see the violence inherent in the system!” Mikey said triumphantly, and pulled Frank halfway off his brother. Ray laughed, deep and easy, moving Frank the rest of the way. Ray and Mikey pinned him down together, Gerard rolling to help, and it was a lot like messing around in the van or the bus, except they were all naked, and there was no doubt in Frank’s mind right now that they should all always be naked.

 _Always_.

Naked, and on top of him, on the biggest bed ever. All the time. It might make their shows a little difficult, but if the Red Hot Chili Peppers could do it, so could they, right? They would just have to figure that shit out. Not that Frank was picky or anything. He was about to explain a new theory about what would be way better than tube socks, when Mikey kissed him, messy and sweet. Then Gerard did, and it had been too long since Frank got reminded how similar they tasted, and somebody’s hand was on his cock, finally. Gerard made a little surprised noise in the kiss, and something cold fell on Frank’s shoulder. They looked up and Mikey grinned, opening another packet of swanky lube, reaching to pour the contents not on Gerard’s hand this time, but on Ray’s, and hey, that’s whose hand was on his cock. But now it was slippery.

“Jesusfuck,” Frank moaned, and tried to keep his eyes open, because Mikey was doing some sort of ninja eyebrow thing with Gerard and Ray, but then Mikey was kissing him again. Frank knew why _he_ was moaning and gasping into the kiss, but he wasn’t completely certain why Mikey was, so he broke off to look over his shoulder. That was, of course, when Ray’s hand skimmed over his balls to press a knuckle against his ass, and then more. And then more. The noises he and Mikey were making were getting hotter and higher, and Frank had to remember to open his eyes again. Gerard had to be two or three fingers deep in Mikey, and he was looking at Ray smugly.

Ray just looked back, all calm, and hey, fuck that. Frank bucked up against Ray’s thick fingers, starting an exaggerated groan for Gerard’s benefit, but Ray turned it real, crooked his fingers and fucked Frank deep until he was whimpering with it. He went to three, slid lube everywhere, and Frank didn’t need it, he was ready. Fuck ready, he was close again, he could feel it.

“You better not,” Mikey panted, breath hot and close on Frank’s cheek, too smart for his own good.

“You got other plans?” Frank teased. Mikey nodded solemnly in response before his eyes rolled back in his head, and Gerard chuckled, low and dangerous.

“Heyy...” Frank whined, unhappy with wherever the hell Ray’s fingers were going that wasn’t deeper in his ass, and then unhappy with wherever the hell _he_ seemed to be going, tugged by his legs down to the end of the bed where Gee was standing. “Hey! I find the biggest bed in London and we don’t even get to fuck on it?”

“Shut up, Frankie.” Ray crawled back up towards him, grinning.

“Oh. Um. Hi,” Frankie said, both to Ray’s mouth on his chest and to Gerard’s cock nudging between his cheeks. Mikey leaned up for one more hot, sloppy, biting kiss before taking his mouth down to Frank’s other nipple, and then Gerard was inside him, finally.

“Mikey,” Gerard called, and then stopped as Mikey detached from Frank’s chest and climbed over Frank. Gerard stopped everywhere, stopped everything. Damnit.

Frank was all set to open his mouth again when Ray interrupted him.

“You wanted an orgy, right, Frankie?”

“Yes!” He was thrilled that somebody, at least, was on the right track. He shouldn’t have to explain this shit, it should be obvious, but then he got it, got that Mikey was rubbing Frank’s cock against himself, wet and ready. “Ohgod.”

“Yeah,” Ray smirked, and watched Frank. All Frank could do was moan incomprehensibly, because that was Mikeyway, sliding down on his cock tight and hot. Gerard must be getting one hell of a view, because he twitched inside Frank.

“Ohgod!” Frank repeated, wide-eyed. And then Gerard started moving, really moving. He couldn’t go far before running into Mikey, but whenever he did, Mikey shifted on Frank’s cock.

“Shit, goddamn. Oh, fuck, fuck, GeMikey... Ray?” Ray was kneeling up, and there was a weird little moment where his leg was funny, and then he was sitting on Frank’s chest, knees up by Frank’s ears, and oh. Oh. Frank opened his mouth to say that out loud, but the head of Ray’s cock was right there, and that was even better.

It took a little bit. Frank had to remember how to breathe, and Gerard had to be a little more gentle than Frank would have liked, otherwise he would shove into Mikey, into Ray, and Frank would get his air cut off by Ray’s massive cock pushing on the roof of his mouth for a few seconds, but that was actually pretty hot. They didn’t fall into a rhythm, exactly, more like a searing-hot repeated sequence of events, and it didn’t last long, it couldn’t last long, _Frank_ couldn’t last long. Frank was pretty sure he was dying. This had to be dying, he hurt, he felt amazing, his nerves were on fire. His throat hurt. He noticed, belatedly, he’d been screaming, actually screaming around Ray’s cock, and he took another breath. Gerard moved, deeper than before, and Mikey was milking Frank’s cock, and Frank was gone. He felt it coming from the tips of his toes, the base of his spine, and then it slammed into him. Ray slipped out of his mouth, then, and he was screaming again, loud this time, nothing to muffle him, vision going white, and something hot and wet fell on his cheek.

Ray moved off his chest with something that sounded like a really satisfied not-apology, and helped Mikey collapse to one side. Frank could breathe a lot more easily, and that kind of sucked. He didn’t want this much oxygen, and he was kind of cold in places. No, cooling. Wet. His cheek, his belly, his balls. Oh.

“Oh, my god, Frank,” Gerard echoed his thoughts, low, and guttural, and still inside him, still hard. How could Gee be the last one to the party, here? Frank shook off the thought and moaned appreciatively, because Gerard could finally fuck him right, and he was doing just that. “The way you fucking look, holy shit, Frankie, fucking covered, Jesus,” and Gerard leaned over, collapsing on his last thrust, grunting so loudly it was almost a shout.

It took him a minute to get back up after coming that hard, and Frank was already laughing by the time Gerard slipped out of him.

“What?”

“There’s spunk in your hair.”

“I think that was mine,” Mikey confessed.

Gerard shrugged. “Not the first time. And dude. Your hair is the only place there isn’t. Seriously. You should see you.” But he said it like a compliment. He flopped down on the bed with the rest of them.

Ray groaned, “So fucking hot.”

“Mmm. This place has a walk-in steam shower. I’m gonna use it as soon as I can stand,” Frank mumbled happily. There was a chorus of lazy agreement. Mikey rolled, touched his thumb to Frank’s cheek, and made a soft noise, licking. Ray sat up to see, made a kind of squeak of disbelief at the sheer hotness of Mikey licking his come off Frank’s face, then lay back down with a thud.

“Gonna be the death of me,” Ray swore.

“Just a little one,” Gerard said, and Mikey laughed, rolling off the bed, offering Frank a hand. He took it, and stood.

“Whoa.” Frank was unsteady, and hoarse, and he leaned on Mikey a little. Frank’s nose twitched, and he wiped the leftover come off his cheek and onto his thigh. Mikey escorted him into the palatial shower, figuring out the nine different knobs enough to make a pretty nice spray. Frank lay down on the honest-to-god stone bench in the shower, and Mikey disappeared, reappearing in a moment with a familiar bottle.

“It’s Raining Men! You remembered.” Frank grabbed at it.

“Yeah, I think that already happened to you today,” Mikey said wryly, snatching the bottle away and lathering up his hands.

“You liked it.” Frank said, confident.

“Yes, I did. Probably more than I fucking should.” Mikey sat down next to him on the bench and started covering him with soap.

“What’s that mean?”

“I dunno. You, us, pile of guys, you covered in jizz, it’s hot, and that’s--”

“--If you say ‘not normal,’ Mikeyway, I’m gonna laugh my ass off. Besides,” and Frank sat up, grabbing the bottle away from Mikey and looking him in the eye, “are we dropping acid or molesting groupies with marine vertebrates?”

“What?!” Mikey’s hands paused, and he looked at Frank, who took the opportunity to lather Mikey up in return.

“See? And it’s not like you shouldn’t get attached to it, or something. I mean, maybe it took us all ten years, but it’s sure as hell not going to take that long for next time, not if I have anything to say about it.” Then Mikey was kissing him, hard and fast, and Frank wasn’t sure what he’d said right, but he smiled anyway and pulled them both under the showerheads to rinse off. He walked to the slightly-less-wet end of the shower and picked up some obscenely fluffy robes, handing one to Mikey after he’d finished twiddling the knobs.

They walked out of the granite crags that the Babylon called a shower, and oh. Okay, that was new.

“Damn,” Mikey breathed.

It wasn’t like Ray was balls-deep in Gerard or anything. He was just sitting behind him, propped up on the headboard, arm slung around Gerard’s neck, mouth at his ear. It was mostly the way Gerard looked, flushed and hanging on to Ray’s arm like it was the only thing in the world, his dick curving up hard. It looked like it throbbed. It was making Frank’s dick throb, that was for sure. Frank was just thinking that maybe he and Mikey should go back to the shower and give them a minute when Ray looked over and grinned, and Gerard noticed in turn.

“H-hi, guys,” Gerard smiled, and it was a real smile, ear-to-fucking-ear, and if he was blushing at the same time, well, that was only more adorable. Just like that, the feeling like maybe Frank was interrupting a private moment vanished, and it must have for Mikey too, or maybe he hadn’t felt it at all, because they were both climbing back up on the bed.

“Shower’s awesome, by the way. What’s up with you?” Frank gave Ray a knowing look.

“Our vocalist is a kinky little fucker.” Ray paused, then turned to Mikey, as if it’d make some kind of difference. “Your brother is a kinky little fucker.”

“News at eleven,” Mikey deadpanned.

“Seriously, not sure how you missed that over the last ten years,” Frank said.

“I didn’t! It’s just... different when I’m in bed with it, or something.”

“It? Now who’s objectifying?” Gerard asked, trying to sound pissy.

“Mmmhm.” Mikey gave him an eyebrow.

“What?”

“Yeah, you like being Ray’s object.” Mikey nodded at the evidence poking up out of Gerard’s lap.

“You like being our object, too,” Frank said knowingly, and palmed Gerard’s cock where it lay on his thigh.

Gerard twitched under his hand. “Maybe a little,” he admitted, all grudging diva.

They laughed, and it was a good sound, all four of them together.

“So, Mikey,” said Ray, biting his lip, “What else is in that basket?”

“Kinda boring, I guess. Lube, condoms, lube, condoms, one of those disposable vibrating cockrings, and some massage oil. But it’s the sticky kind.” Mikey wrinkled his nose.

“Damn.”

“I know, right? Shit should not be sticky. Don’t put sugar in massage oil. Just don’t.” Mikey waved his hand, about to start on some sort of rant.

“Not what I meant, but that’s a fair point, too.” Ray admitted, before Mikey could start in on how dextrose and citric acid belong in candy. Frank had heard this one before.

“Why, what were you looking for?” Frank kicked off his robe and reacquainted his limbs to the growing puppy pile.

“Nothin’.” Ray looked away.

“Ray Toro, are you fucking blushing? The hell did Gee _do_ to you, anyway?” Frank grabbed Mikey’s robe and tossed it off with his, pulling him in close.

“Rope.” Mikey guessed, and Gerard coughed, choking on thin air. “Seriously, that was all? You guys are so bad at this resource management shit sometimes.” Mikey poked Gerard in the shoulder. “What do you want, Gee? Soft and fuzzy or kinky leather?”

Gerard blushed.

Mikey gave Frank a look, and he clued in, disentangling himself to roll off the bed for a few seconds and walk down to the hallway. “Got it! Now where the hell...” He came back, holding up Ray’s belt triumphantly. Gerard saw it and turned almost as red as his hair.

“You guys,” he muttered, rubbing his face with his hands and sounding mortified.

“Aw, I’m sorry, Gee. Did you not want us to tie you up and have our way with you? ‘Cause we could do something else, I guess.” Frank shrugged, smiling.

“There _is_ a really big TV over there,” Ray teased mercilessly.

Mikey scooted over to Frank and took the belt from his hands, slipping it around Gerard’s wrists. Ray reached over and pulled the buckle to. Gerard shivered, looking down.

“Yeah?” Frank tousled his hair, pleased.

“Yeah,” Gerard looked up at Frank, biting his lip. Ray tucked the tail of the belt in, kissing Gerard’s neck, and groped behind him for some pillows, pulling them to his side.

“Up and over, Gee,” he said, tapping the pillows and moving out of the way. Gerard climbed on top of them, all obedient. He looked good: relaxed, spread out, pale curve of his ass turned up, and Frank wanted in on that in a bad way.

Mikey moved, sprawling back against the headboard. He grinned, reaching back to the belt around Gerard’s hands.

“C’mere, Gee,” he said, and leaned to pull him into a kiss. They looked like they could stay busy for a while, and Frank and Ray took a moment to admire them.

“Fuck,” Ray sighed, and Frank looked over at him.

“Speaking of which,” Frank said, and nodded at Gerard’s ass, round and perfect and accessible.

Ray raised his eyebrows. “You wanna?”

“Yes. A lot of yes. Mountains of yes. You mind?” Frank grinned hopefully, and Ray scooted over to him on the bed, running a hand over his thigh.

“That depends. Think I can fuck you at the same time?” The look on Ray’s face was speculative, focused, happy, and relaxed all at the same time, like he was figuring out the right chord for a song he really liked. It was gorgeous. Then Frank registered what Ray had actually said.

“Damn it, Ray, shit. Uh. Yes.” Frank said, trying to remember how the whole breathing-and-staying-upright-at-the-same-time thing went.

“Awesome.” Ray nodded.

Frank looked back to the Ways, taking another deep breath at Mikey, laid back on the mattress and using Gerard’s bound hands to jerk off. He was all long limbs and dark eyes, one thumb tucked into the loop of leather at Gee’s wrists, lazily guiding. Gerard’s ass wiggled a little, like he was occasionally thrusting into the pillow, and Frank was settling in between his spread legs before he even thought about it. Frank couldn’t help it. Sometimes he just gravitated toward Gerard’s ass. Who wouldn’t? He skimmed a thumb down over the cleft of it, brushed over the tight pucker. He trailed his finger over Gerard’s asshole again, circling and pressing, and listened for the gasp-and-curse he knew was coming.

“Fuck!” There it was. Frank looked up to meet Mikey’s eyes, and waited until Mikey grabbed a fistful of red hair, carefully watched the peace spread over his features as Gerard began to suck. Frank grinned, shimmied back down, got a handful of Gerard’s ass in each hand, and started to lick. Little muffled whimpers from Gerard filled the room, deepening to groans when Frank started fucking into him with his tongue. Frank left him with a few teasing licks, then looked around. There was a packet of lube by his hand.

“Aww, Ray.” Frank turned to look at him, taking in Ray’s hooded eyes and a tight fist on his own cock, shining with lube and precome. Frank kissed Ray’s shoulder, opened the packet and slicked up his fingers. “And I didn’t get you anything.”

Frank slid two fingers into Gerard, hot and soft and hips turned up like he was begging for it. Frank slid his hand out, added more lube, went to three, and Gee went all high-pitched and sweet. One of them must have done something good, because Mikey groaned.

“I dunno about that, Frankie.” Ray smiled, hand resting on Frank’s ass. “Pretty sure this is something.”

Frank waggled. “Are you objectifying me, Toro?”

“Still, such a smartass,” Ray tsked fondly.

Frank beamed at him and then said, “Well objectify this,” as he lined himself up and slid into Gerard until he was in almost to the hilt, and Gee moaned loudly around Mikey’s cock, pushing himself back until Frank was in him all the way.

“Jesus Christ,” Ray admired.

“He’s hot and tight for me, Ray,” Frank taunted, or tried, but it came out breathless praise. “Look at how he takes it.”

“You,” Ray crawled over and behind Frank, “are talking too much.”

“Maybe,” Frank smirked over his shoulder at Ray, and Frank didn’t know why that word would make Ray’s eyes go all fiery and determined, but it was something Frank wanted to see more often.

Ray growled and lined up, pushing inside, not checking, not prepping, and he didn’t need to, not when he knew wet and stretched Frank still was. His cock slid in like coming home, easy from the way Gerard had fucked him open, and Frank moaned loudly, taking Ray all the way down to his balls. God, it was good, and he knew he should take a minute to enjoy it, but Frank itched to move. Gerard was already trying to get him to, making tiny impatient motions with his hips.

“C’mon Ray,” Frankie urged. “ _C’mon._ ”

“Such a little shit,” Ray growled in Frank’s ear and started thrusting in earnest.

“That’s it,” Frank panted, trying his level best to fall into a rhythm, his fingers digging into Gerard’s hips, mesmerized for a moment by Gerard’s mouth and Mikey’s fingers twined in his hair. Mikey’s head thrown back, mouth open, tongue peeking out. They looked beautiful like that, hot like burning. Frank was sure that together, they all looked like the most spectacularly filthy thing ever. It was almost too much at once. It was amazing and when Ray hit him just right, he saw stars, a broken moan tearing free from his lips.

“Guys, _shit,_ ” Ray panted, sounding awed, sounding like Frank felt. “This. The way it looks. Oh _fuck._ ”

“Yes,” Frank panted and he was close. So close. He could feel it, itchy and warm, rising up to tickle at the base of his spine, the sides of his neck. “Ray,” he said desperately. “C’mon, Ray. Fuck.”

“Close,” Ray groaned.

“Gee,” Mikey moaned, his voice all rough edges, and Frank watched Gerard swallow, red hair tilting up.

“Frank,” Ray said, and bit into his shoulder, shoved deep into Frank’s ass, and shot hot and wet inside him. Frank managed a clumsy grip on Gerard’s cock, gave two more quick thrusts and followed suit, moaning, jerking Gerard while he cried out and milked Frank through his aftershocks.

Frank leaned heavily on Gerard with Ray’s head between his shoulders. Mikey was propped against the headboard looking blissed the fuck out. Frank was pretty sure he looked like the most smug, fucked out motherfucker ever. But he would need to move. He wanted very much to lie down, and maybe nap or eat something, then maybe use the shower again. There were knobs that he and Mikey hadn’t even tried.

Frank squirmed a little and Ray caught on, sliding out with a hiss and ambling off the bed. Frank tried to gently ease out of Gerard, but caused them both to groan anyway, and Frank promptly collapsed near Mikey’s knees on the bed. Mikey let Gerard out of the belt, watching him sigh like the contented, kinky little fuck he was. Mikey gently rubbed along the red lines on Gerard’s wrist where the belt had dug into his skin. Ray slumped back on the bed. They all exchanged looks before laughing, a little in wonder, a little in happiness, a little in what-the-fuck-just-happened, a little high on it all. And who cared, anyway? They were awesome.

“Damn.”

“Yeah.”

“We’re awesome.”

“I’m ordering room service.”

“I love you.”

“Didn’t say I was getting you any.”

“Then I won’t help you wash the come out of your hair.”

“There isn’t any come in my hair.”

“You sure about that?”

“I hate you all.”

“I’ll have a veggie burger with pickles.”

***********  


  


[ Epilogue - Gerard]

He would not be defeated by a simple French braid. He would not, seriously. How the hell did Frank make this shit look so easy? Little dexterous, guitar-playing fuck. This sort of thing should be even easier for Gerard. It was just a braid. A braid on the head of a squirmy toddler, who kept reaching across the coffee table for a different crayon. But still, not rocket science. It wasn’t even like Bandit’s hair was curly. Not like some people Gerard had tried to braid.

Maybe he should have had more coffee before he decided to conquer the world via a hairdo. But she’d asked him! How could he say no to that shit? He couldn’t, not ever.

Now Frank was giggling with Lyn z across the room. The fucker. Both of them traitors. Unhelpful shits. He had a feeling that one of them was responsible for planting the idea in Bandit’s head. Gerard could just see Frank coaching Bandit before Gerard had gotten downstairs for coffee, saying something like, “Now, you have to ask Daddy for a _French_ braid, they’re much better. And Daddy will make the BEST face.” Yep. Gerard was now certain, biting his lip and trying to get all the tiny little strands of hair to just stay in his fingers, that Frank was to blame.

“You know,” Lyn-Z said, smile tucked into the corner of her eyes and face serious. “You should really go over there and help him.” Her shoulder nudged Frank’s. Frank was perched with his head resting on his hand, wearing one of his sweaters, grinning.

“Yeah,” Frank agreed, not moving at all. Asshole. “But he’s trying so hard. I think he’ll figure it out eventually. He’s even doing that tongue thing. You know, when he’s thinking really hard and has it tucked into the corner of his mouth.”

“He is being kind of adorable,” Lyn z agreed, smiling fondly.

“Expletive you both very much,” Gerard called, pausing carefully to study his work. He was sure he’d dropped a bit too much hair that last one. Or not picked up enough. He was a tangle away from disaster.

“Aww, he’s watching his language and everything,” Lyn z observed, nudging Frank again.

“I guess me and my wealth of expertise could go over there,” Frank nodded and giggled.

“Yeah, your vast expertise - from Jamia,” Lyn z countered.

“Well, yeah. She knows some cool stuff,” Frank smirked. A smirk that said, ‘go on and ask me about the cool shit I know she can do so we can compare notes. Sexy notes. Notes of sexiness.’ Gerard took a moment to be quietly irritated at how the hell Frank could be so adorable.

“Yes, she does,” Lyn z was all innuendo. Gerard couldn’t help but notice that her smirk was way better than Frank’s.

“You could cite examples,” Frank suggested, looking lecherous and still grinning like a motherfucker.

“Nope,” Lyn z grinned devilishly. “Especially not in front of the impressionable innocent over there, what kind of a girl do you think I am?”

“Not even if I help the hopeless braider over there next to her?” Frank asked. “Besides, Gerard already knows all of my tricks.”

Lyn z laughed at Frank, pushing him playfully off the couch and in a general braidward direction.

Frank grudgingly trudged over, but was smiling. He sat beside Gerard on the couch, pressed up against his side. He looked at the mess that was Bandit’s hair, resting his chin on Gerard’s shoulder.

“So, what’s giving you problems?” Frank asked, eyebrows up questioningly as he looked at Gee from the corner of his eyes. He wasn’t making fun of Gerard, exactly. He had on his patient face, with a little smile. An amused, patient little fucker.

“Blue!” Bandit gestured wildly for the crayon that was at the far edge of the coffee table while Gerard held carefully to her hair, trying to keep from pulling.

Frankie retrieved the crayon, and obediently handed it to her, smiling fondly at the little moppet.  
Bandit beamed at him and went back to coloring. Yeah, they were definitely in cahoots. Gerard was sure of it.

Frank studied for a moment and said, “Oh, you seem to be dropping and picking up the same pieces.”

“I am?” Gerard didn’t mean to make it a question. He hadn’t meant to say that at all. He’d meant to say, “No, I’m not.”

“Yeah, I should have started you on something smaller,” Frank waved off and reached over to take over.

“On something smaller? Seriously? Have you seen the size of the current project?” Gerard asked, not quite squawking, but still sounding a lot like he had a couple of years ago when they’d decided to rework the album. He waved his hands frustratedly as he watched Frank smooth her hair back down, adjusting in ways that looked just the same as Gerard had done, thank you very much. He glared at Frank, who just smiled and then took Gerard’s hands and placed them on Bandit’s head.

“Yeah, Jamia had me learning on a Barbie doll to start with,” Frank said, like it made all the sense in the world. “Maybe I should have taught you with Mikey,” he mused, gesturing for Gerard to start once more.

“I still can’t believe that you talked Ray into sitting still for you to show me in the first place,” Gerard admitted, starting to braid once more.

“Hey, my prowess is awesome and uncanny,” Frank puffed out his chest a little. “There is shock and awe going on here.”

“Let’s just hope your prowess wasn’t tied to your hair,” Gerard said, trying to joke, but sounding like someone had kicked his puppy. He still couldn’t believe that Frank had gotten it all cut off. Criminal. Fucking inexcusable. Just... what. Besides, it was like having Frank from seven years ago walking around, but in inexplicable grandpa sweaters, with cheekiness firmly intact.

“God, Jamia said you’d never let me live this sh-uh, stuff down, and she was right, it’s been two months,” Frank shook his head and helped Gerard gather a bit for the braid. “Besides, do you know what a hazard having the long hair was, with twins?”

“A livable, acceptable hazard,” Gerard muttered. “I could be practicing on _your_ head.”

“Well, you’ll just have to think of other things to do while we’re back on tour here at home,” Frank shrugged, patient, pedantic, and quietly lewd.

“That a challenge, Iero?” Gerard smirked, feeling a blush rise to his cheeks.

“Better be a challenge that involves updates over the phone,” Lyn z said, moving over to hand Gerard a hair-bow to finish the braid. Which didn’t look half bad. Huh.

“With lots of sordid details,” she continued and started towards the kitchen.

“Sordid, like ordinary sordid? Or Ray-Toro-tied-us-all-up sordid?” Frank asked. Gerard made a choke-cough noise that failed to cover an embarrassed laugh. Fuck. Toro. Fuck. Frankie was going to kill him at this rate.

“I imagine you boys will be creative,” Lyn z winked, and Frank beamed at her. Looking at the two of them, Gerard had a feeling that there was a crowded shower full of people he loved and funny-smelling soap in his future. Of course, those never really turned out badly.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Bonus Tracks/Enhanced Content**
> 
>  **Fanart:**   
> [The Art](http://s0ckpupp3t.livejournal.com/4611.html)
> 
>  **Mixes:**  
> [Way to Shower](http://s0ckpupp3t.livejournal.com/4971.html) by the amazing  
> [Why Don't We Do It on the Road?](http://s0ckpupp3t.livejournal.com/5345.html)


End file.
